TV dinner

Woohoo! As Homer Simpson would say. I've finally got my TV back after five days. It's fab - it works. I spent the whole of Monday watching everything and anything from the brilliant Simpsons, to the mundane (Richard and Judy anyone?) and on to the stultifyingly boring (Brentford v Northampton on Sky Sports). And I enjoyed every bit of it.
Mind you, I did take a while to get the thing to work. And attaching it to the stand was a bit of a nightmare, particularly when I realised I'd put it on the wrong way around, meaning the DVD and Satellite box would be facing away from me. I would have to clamber over assorted boxes, leads and god knows what else to turn it on.
That wasn't the only hiccough, either. The TV repair man was scheduled to arrive "sometime after 2". He actually turned up sometime after six, complaining of a broken axle to the van.
By this time I had stupidly opened the door to a rather strange creature called Heidi, who asked me to complete a Mori poll survey. It was mainly political questions which all seemed to point towards: Do you want your actions monitored 24 hours a day by CCTV and to have to carry an identity card at all times?
It was all very political and when Heidi then proceeded to tell me that everything I believed in was wrong, that immigrants should be sent back where they came from, that single mums should not be given so much money and that everyone under the age of 20 should be locked up. I thought of pointing out to her that she herself was an "immigrant", opting instead to bluntly advise her that I had absolutely no interest in a party political broadcast on behalf of Britain's young Nazis. She got the message, I think. The survey finished very soon after that. Aren't I nasty?

Yesterday met up with Paul, a mate from those lovely old Barmy Army days in Brisbane and Adelaide. He lives in Cardiff and brought along some photos of our glorious times in Oz. We met in Dempsey and what I didn't realise was that Celtic were playing in Europe that night. In the blink of an eye we were surrounded by 400 bosses, bouncing up and down singing something like "The Celts are here". Decided the best way to put up with this was to neck about eight pints. If you can't beat em, join em. Didn't help me get up for work this morning, though.