Saturday morning I woke early for work with that sprightly feeling after a good night's sleep. Odd seeing as I had less than 6 hours. That was as good as it got.
The last hour and a half of my shift was excrement. People were very impatient. To worsen matters I got off 15 minutes late - not happening again. Then after fighting my way through hordes of disgusting proles in town I waited half an hour for a bus that was 20 minutes late.
When I got home I did the sensible thing and went to bed. Even though it was early afternoon I realised that my consciousness had not worked to that point so hedged my bets and went to sleep.
I was up in time to watch a bit of the F.A. Cup final. A mostly dour affair as part of Chelsea's tactics are to dull their opponents into submission. Andy Carroll was the hi-light. The first time he's looked like the player he was at Newcastle since his move.
The evening consisted of helping Mr. Kitson place pins in Voodoo cushions of Newcastle United players. I threatened to snare some of Kitson's allotted Sheppy's but he wasn't having any of it.