No clubbing this weekend. Not even a little bit. One party was cancelled and the only other one that had any chance of enticing me was on a beach down the coast, and there was no chance at all of that enticing me. Bit over the midnight drives at the moment.
However, somethings will never change. 'Tis Sunday, and on Sundays I become Sir Lunchalot. It's grey and breezy outside, perfect weather for a hearty meal and a lazy bottle of red. Or two. Even though I should be doing something about my work situation... oh bugger off - I was up at 7.30 am and I've sent off a few feature proposals. Not bad for a Sunday.
Right. I'm off to lunch. A lot.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
See you in the Trinity Bar. Mine's a schooner of New, you fat fucker.
Ah the memories... "If you were LESS FAT you wouldn't have to push through!"
Post a Comment