OK, brace yourself. I spent a large part of today, Saturday, working. Yes, you did read that correctly. Working. And unsurprisingly, I achieved far more in three-and-a-half hours today than on any other day over the previous two weeks.
Unsurprising, because there were no distracting phone calls from the office, and no emails demanding to be answered. No project co-ordinators asking for 'tiny favours' - which usually grow into 'massively time-consuming tasks which must completed now, if not sooner. Or else'.
As a result, while I'm not quite in the clear yet, I think a few more hours tomorrow should be enough to get me ahead of the game. In the meantime, the pub beckons.
I had the sheer (not necessary good) luck to see part of Strictly Come Dancing this evening. This is the BBC's idea of Saturday night entertainment. Movie blockbusters? Nah. How about some quality new comedy shows? Forget it. Ballroom dancing, that's what the punters want. A bunch of minor celebs noncing around with professional dancers, and (in the case of the male celebs anyway) looking like a right load of plonkers. The whole sorry spectacle is hosted by Natasha Kaplinsky and Bruce Forsyth (easily old enough to be her grandfather) and is, frankly, more camp than a row of tents.
I've just remembered that the clocks go back tonight, meaning an extra hour in bed. Although I would much prefer an extra hour in the pub.
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