It snowed steadily this morning in North Yorkshire, but not nice snow like we had last time. This is horrible wet slushy stuff. The sort of stuff that puts even me off my morning constitutional. Time to settle down in front of the fire and watch some footie on the telly then. Or so I thought. Until he said "after last week's performance I'd rather gnaw off my own fist than watch that gang of useless, lazy overpaid nancy boys." So it looks like licking my own privates is likely to be as exciting as it gets on this particular afternoon, the tight bastard. Pooh count: it's a par 3 so far.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.