Night Nurse knocked Anna and I out from the night before.

We both had work at home days ahead, and so emerged online in a slightly groggy manner.

My fingers had forgotten how to type. Proper naughty stuff that Night Nurse.

The Postman Delivers: the ballot paper for the Surrey Cricket General Committee.

Nine candidates - all middle-aged men.

But one of them is Mark Butcher.

So that makes it alright then.

I put in place a few WordPress hacks across some school sites later in the afternoon. It’s a clever old beast beast WordPress - far from a blogging tool, but a complete CMS.

Has it grown too big?

Possibly, but I like the way that the most random Google of a WP query can usually lead you to a solution.

It’s pretty dull stuff, but I’ve set up custom pages across some school sites. This means that the page title name that the custom menu takes doesn’t appear as the actual page title itself.

Neat.

Post-Bank Holiday work was busy. Which meant that Tuesday (or is it Wednesday?) drifted.

An escape of sorts was in walking Anna to the train station.

We sound like a couple of young lovers / old pensioners.

I caught the first half of the England match. I refuse to get over-excited about the Euros.

And then some more work shifts to finish the day.

NOT being knocked out with Night Nurse this evening.