Not A Great Day

After a riotous end to the WFRP campaign at Gamesoc, I'd stayed over at Kirsty's in Highbury. This was because I was on literally the last Tube, with the cleaners out in force, and couldn't head south any more. Being far too drunk to have any truck with night buses, I decided the best thing was just to turn up and say "Can I sleep on your sofa?"

Anyway, I spent a listless day at work yesterday before returning home by about seven o'clock.
I was cheered by the prospect of wrapping my godson's 4th birthday present (which is a rather neat motorised bus thing - it whizzes round a changeable track built into large jigsaw pieces that snap together to make the track). Then I made the mistake of turning on the news, to find Jon Snow broadcasting from Madrid.

I'd been vaguely aware of something happening, through vague mentions on the web during the day, but now there I was, drinking my tea and sitting alone in the house watching the report from Spain. It wasn't good.

Eventually, though, the others got home and we all watched the first new episode of Black Books. Which, needless to say, was excellent.