Tuesday, March 1


During breakfast the other day I watched Bayern score the only goal (Robben), seconds from the end, against Inter. Strangely deadpan English commentator, but good.

Day off today. The sun's out. We're all alive. What could be better?

Later: I had to go to the beach with the neighbour, just to be sociable. It was actually quite good. He's from Australia, so he knows how to body surf. I swam out beyond the waves, but later the shark visions drove me back in to where he was. I tried catching waves, and succeeded with one, exhilarating and scary at the same time. You can paraplegiarise yourself by ramming fat people or spearing into the sand. We're going again next week.

Back home now, I was planning to start off a home brew, now that the weather's cool enough not to kill the yeast. But I can't be bothered.


  1. Albert? I'm going to drink nothing but home brew until I'm rich!! Hotboy

  2. Hotters. Will you take bottles into the pub in your greatcoat pockets, and decant them into pint mugs? Kev tried that (minus the greatcoat).

  3. Albert? I'm only going to the pub when other people are coughing up the dosh! Hotboy