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Socialising this week consisted of an art gallery (terrible exhibition, very interesting side room with aerial photos of the city that Beardy McBeard Face (Didactylos) and I argued over for a while.

"So that's whatsit road?"
"No. THAT's whatsit road, you can see the Town Hall, see?"
Continuum ad Nauseaum.

Then I dragged him off to see a "Cheapo-Tuesday" film which personally I found well worth paying Friday prices for. Wild Target. Bill Nighy being English and Repressed (whilst shooting people in a refined assassin type manner), Emily Blunt being ditsy and impulsive and an occasionally naked Rupert Grint. Plus the usual smorgasboard of British Actors that are generally dragged out of the woodwork for such events.

And a Mini.

I laughed a lot, but that could be because I was struggling with tiredness and the evil disease of throat rebellion.

Then there was Pizza (Empty Pizza Hut, everyone obviously still watching the football) and a reasonably early night (though I did stay up to watch the recorded Mock the Week before collapsing into bed - that Milton Jones, he's got funnier recently).

Don't talk to me about the football.

Oh and due to my evil throat of fiery raging pain keeping me awake all night with gland swelling and earache I went to the emergency Doctor. Apparently I have "No temperature" and after a quick glance in ears and throat I was dismissed with instructions to take regular painkillers and gargle every 2 hours. A virus. Oh joy. "It's on it's way out now"

This is why we can't have nice things.

So very tired.


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July 2014

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