Bank Holidays always do this to me.

It’s Tuesday, yet it’s the first day back at work. Which makes it Monday.

Or something.

Bleh.

Over the weekend, I caught up on some sleep. I’ve said before, my “core sleep” hours are between 7 and 9 am – if I get woken up (or have to wake up) within that time, I’m foul for the day, and resemble a grizzly bear woken from hibernation.

Come the end of those core hours, I usually wake up naturally within a couple of minutes, and all is right with the world. It’s weird, but true.

Anyway, this weekend I couldn’t work out why I was waking up at 10am instead.

And then it occurred to me.

It looks like my core hours are actually 7 to 9am GMT. We’re in BST, so that’s 8-10am.

Bizarre, but true.

When you’ve been out for the day, walking on beaches like this…

Wells Beach

What you really want is to come home to a picture like this…

Welcome Home, from your happy smiling cat

And yes, that is one of Herself’s handbags that the little shit is sitting on/in.

Oh goody, another one. But for once, not at Tescos…

Fully in the hatchmarks, not even *close* to a parking spot

In short, a total, total cunt.

Over the weekend, we were breaking up wood for the wood-burner in winter.

Some of it was old fence-panels, which needed each strip of wood to be split up into manageable pieces. Like a knobhead, I chose to do this mainly over my leg, snapping the bits as necessary.

However, when the wood snapped in the wrong place, it didn’t half make a mess of my arm…

Woodpile, not self-harm

Ouchy

For once, I’ve got a situation where my memory is failing me. I wasn’t even aware of it ’til today, but now it’s driving me mad.

On Radio One this morning, Chris Moyles mentioned having been in Hanley, near Stoke-on-Trent. And I know I went for an interview there many moons ago. It’s just that I can’t remember the name of the place-  which is odd, because I normally can remember these stupid useless details.

I know it was some kind of jazz bar/restaurant, but that’s it. I can’t remember much about it – something about the location, but not much.

It’s really bugging me. What’s worse is that I know it shouldn’t annoy me – it was something for half a day, back in what must’ve been 1993/94. I shouldn’t really even recall that I’d been there, so little does it matter.

But up there in my head, for whatever reason, it does matter. I’ll figure it out, I’m sure.