9 hours. Fucking 9. Hours fucking.
We could have gone to Paxos in that time. But instead, oh no, let's venture the distance between Somerset and Norwich. Just let's.
We did, however, get to see Jamielock for a quick coffee in Victoria which was pleasant. The last glimpse of him sans wifey. Then there was a man (or woman - I didn't actually see) improvising saxophone over the beat to Billie Jean; of course, wonderful. But apart from these minor alleviations, today was an arse.
To bed. To iPlayer.
Consette x
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