My Tuesday cycle to Lutterworth plans evaporated in favour of sitting on my arse, although I did have to make a special outing to Leire to comfort one certain young lady who's not having the best of times at the moment. Sadly, Captain decided to call, in search of a phone connection point, and inform me that we're re-designing our command room in the summer. Yet again.
Wednesday I was supposed to go to the dentist, but decided I'd rather do some chemistry as apparently I've got an exam coming up, I don't know if you've heard? Photography course after school was cheered up by Rupert, who thinks that three times of camera supports are a tripod, a monopod...and a rock. Spent an hour or more out with Coddy that evening, who seems to think that cows can talk to each other have accents and maybe cannot understand cows from other parts of the world. Northern idiot.
Thursday I cycled over to South Wigston to meet with the PR people behind the June parade that we're photographing. Katie and Emilia, our guest photographers for the event came with me and we had a short half an hour chatting to a lovely Irish man and a lady who shouted at her phone. Followed by the worst Croft Players singing group meeting in...well, the three weeks of it's existence.
I did stay up till half 2 and watch the general election results. I figured the election is like a cross between Eurovision and Conclave. It's a big song and dance and goes on for so long people lose interest...
Friday panned out like any other Friday, although I don't usually fall asleep at 8pm. It worked out well, though, because the new people that are moving in next door decided to start banging at half nine this morning, annoying gits. Better be decent neighbours, or I'm wacking up the Dolly Parton...
"The day we're born we start to die, don't waste one minute of your life...get to livin'..."
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