Sunday 7th August.

Brilliant afternoon on Saturday. Catching the x70 to The Stray and walking into Harrogate. Having a few hours away from sterile Wetherby. Wasn't drunk but woke at 3 having had a full night's sleep, uninterrupted, again. But struggled back into sleep until I definitely awoke at 6, two coffees, one Oatsosimple and an hour around Wetherby up the old A1 (A168). Back to chill before heading to the allotment for around two hours. The lamb Madras I bought on Thursday, and ate over three days, has played havoc with my bowels!

Dropped Archie at mum's and popped out to listen to 4 tedious posh birds discuss giving birth and planning an oh so stereotypical hen party. It can't be any fun being that middle of the road. They're perfect early 30s. Oohing and aahing at photos of babies. There is nothing to them. Now I will need to wait until next Saturday to escape this meaningless chatter...

It's the kind of banality which makes me turn to the bottle. One down and three to go. They're off to Morrison's shortly...