
It's 2pm, I'm still in my dressing gown, having made no attempt to sort my life out, I'm recompiling my kernel in the hope that this will allow me to use the card reader I bought yesterday and there's a rather fragrant cinnamon incense stick burning away on the ash catcher on top of my fire. If it weren't for the fact that I feel rough as a dog, this would be bliss.
I went to Wigan with Nicola last night. That was... interesting. Got extremely pissed. I bumped into several people I didn't expect to, including Chris the cretin who used to be our sales manager. He annoys me beyond words.
We went to Pemps, eventually. Pemps is something of an institution in Wigan. It's the grottiest club in the whole world. It serves beer in cans. There is a ferocious lady called Barbara on the door who, despite the fact that I've been in god knows how many times by now, still stops me every time and deliberates for a while before letting me in.
I think I may have cuddled Nic entirely too much. It felt nice, but it's definitely not a good idea. I don't know what she made of it.
I am so hungover.