I don’t have much to say this morning. It’s rather cold and overcast as befits a day when a barbeque is planned: we are off to Birstall in a while to eat and drink with Andy, and it looks as if I won’t be poeting at Strawberry Fields festival as I haven’t heard from the organiser. I have a rather cheeky bottle of Blossom Hill red to take, whereas Peter is going to get an extremely rude something-or-other for under £4 from the Co-op. I have some very outspoken bottles of elderflower but I’m leaving them until they reach the correct pitch of violent irresponsibility. It reminds me of ‘Black Books’ (‘They’ve got some rather cheeky Lafittes for under a hundred pounds.’ ‘What about a bottle of Pinot Ninot-Ninot?‘
Haven’t heard back from the TV people: I guess they’ve given up on me but maybe that’s just what they want me to think. They did phone a couple of times and leave messages, but there’s no way I’m doing a programme called ‘Health Freaks on Trial.’ Nope, if I’m drinking urine on TV there should only be one person taking the piss, and that’s me.
So that’s it for today. Have a good one.