Am awoken with the information that it was ten to eight. Bad news for one who should be in Oxford for nine! Actuallly manage to get my act together, tiptoe through the bunny shit, get breakfasted and get to S by 9:15.
He looks as though he hasn't slept, and I wonder how safe we will be, but he rises to the ocassion. He is half Italian, and I imagine a bit of a crumpet magnet. He has a lazy English drawl, tousled hair. He reminds me of a film star. Is it Jean Paul Belmondo? Maybe. He is quite an engaging guy, and manages to supress his natural self confidence, which I am sure must brook the boundary with arrogance at times.
Aaron rings to cancel the following appointment. I shall have to lay the law down.
I make great resolutions on the way home. Tidy the garage, then the annexe and the bedroom. Needless to say I sit down at the laptop and nothing happens. What a hypocrite I am to go on at Dan, who by the way has headed off to Barcelona until Sunday. In return we get Sophie back from Loughborough, much inspired with her trip. It's getting confusing, we'll have to start a role call.
The state of the pit goes from bad to worse, and I am not pleasant company all evening. I try to watch the telly and wake up at 2am, a trick I haven't pulled for a while. I go to the bathroom to clean my teeth and recoil in horror at the shitefest.
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