Oh no, a life without purpose....

...I have ceased employment, and following the tidying up of the loose ends I don't really have any real need to get up tomorrow morning, although Socrates advises that I don't lose the habit of getting up (yeah, mate, but not at twenty to fucking six any more, so I can drive past the still-steaming carcasses of the early morning roadkill) and anyway, the mother-in-law-to-be has suggested that I might like to go to niece's end of term school assembly tomorrow, and that this would be a really popular move. The last term I went to an end-of-term assembly was ahem years ago and was that typical formality that we went through every year at Market Town Minor School which involved jeering of the headmaster as he whinged about some wanton vandalism, crowed about an irrelevant sporting triumph and jabbered on about other drivel that didn't interest us when we had to come back tomorrow.

Anyway, I now have a reason to get up tomorrow, and not to get drunk tonight.

I did drink last night, this caused some huffin' and puffin' in some quarters, because I rocked up at oure hoostes with 2l of Pepsi-Cola and a half bottle of Cockspur. The major source of contention was that I chose to drink them seperately, drinking my rum as a neat sippin' shortie, and my cola as a long cold refresher. So I enjoyed them, and read a bit and listened to a podcast about the late Roy Jenkins, who I did not realise was actually quite an interesting feller, and someone who made a difference.

Today I saw Socrates which was, as ever, a rewarding experience, and we discussed amongst other things a particularly nasty dream I had recently, which involved my being part of a SWAT team and being engaged in a thoroughly bloody shoot-out in a trailer park to liberate, some hostages, and the last of the baddies refusing to be arrested and taking a poison which caused his blood to turn to jelly in his veins. Not nice, but apparently nothing to worry about. I've probably been watching too much of tv such as Numbers and various incarnations of CSI.

I've had to promise Tabatha that we'll have Sky when we move into the new pad, this will enable us to watch endless reruns of House, and pointless motorsport series. There's a prize if anyone can rationally explain the need for Supercross? Is it not even less valid than tennis? And remember, I like motorsport.

Lawdy, it's so warm!