Another Ashes breakfast.

I listened underneath the covers from 5am. The switch was made downstairs for the TV an hour later.

I put on the kettle and WOH – I missed a couple of Aussie wickets.

I should drink tea on the half hour, every half hour.

Hang on…

There wasn’t much light listening on #LateJunction.

Time to celebrate an Industrial Christmas with faUSt and Lone Taxidermist.

Which was nice.

The early work came to close and so I slipped out to the gym.

This was my first visit in almost a week. The touchpad key system had been replaced with wristbands.

They were bobbins.

The mens size is F-OFF XXXXL wrists.

What were you expecting in a gym?

I have limp wrists.

It took one set of pull downs before my wristband fell off.

I had a mad bicycle ride back to base for the midday shift. Some major roadworks have started next to the University.

Half of Boundary Road is now one way, controlled by traffic lights. I came to a halt just as the Cat 1 Essex climb begins.

Um, Chapeau!


Alexa: play Midge Ure Orchestrated.

Well that was interesting.

The NY shifts for work dropped mid-afternoon.

NY Eve is overrated anyway.

I had Friday work shifts all the way through until 9pm.

Like the dear old Queen Mum popping her clogs (Gawd bless her soul) – the major, major incident should never happen on my watch.

Except it did on Friday night.

Steady the buffers, Jase.

I think I did OK.

It’s all about following protocol, innit.

Work tools were downed in time to see Phil Taylor scrape home in the darts.

Bloody love it.

A late FaceTime call with Anna led me to letting her down gently:

Sorry, luv. The wisteria has to go.

It’s got out of control. I fear it is about to bring down the back wall.

Snippety snip.