WELL, what a day of sport. At the start of it you still couldn't look past Manchester United or Chelsea for the winner of this year's FA Cup... by a little after 7pm both their chances had been extinguished. United lost 1-0 at home to Portsmouth while Chelsea were knocked out by the fighting Tykes of Barnsley. You couldn't make it up in a comic book.
Tomorrow, of course, I will be going to see my beloved Gas trying to reach Wembley for the second time in two years with their quarter final tie at home to West Brom. I must admit I am viewing it with trepidation. Not because Paul Trollope's spirited fighters might lose, you understand, just that I have managed to end up with a ticket in the family enclosure.
Most of my friends will know I am a mild-mannered chap, but there may be a tendency for me to slip into some uncharacteristic moments of bad language as the tension of the occasion gets to me. And then where will I be? Probably out on my ear, trying to gauge what is happening from listening to the Oo's and Aah's of my fellow Gasheads.
Meanwhile, the whole of Wales will now be going potty for a second Grand Slam in four years. Well done to them and particularly coach Warren Gatland, who seems to have brought some sanity to a bunch of players far too often carried along on the wave of their own publicity.
Today they beat Ireland... next week it will be France. No doubt by this time next week I will be the only person in Wales not in a pub trying to celebrate like crazy or drown my sorrows.
C'est La Vie.
The Voice of God has not been keeping his all-seeing eye on developments, it appears. Despite all the publicity, chatter, meetings and meetings about meetings that have been going on around here concerning the new Meeja Wales set up, until this week he remained blissfully unaware of proceedings. This, mark you, is despite the fact he attended many of such meetings and even asked questions at them.
The Wonderful Withers broke the news about his temporary memory loss. Apparently the wonderful One got a call in the office on Tuesday.
The deep, booming voice on the other end seemed to show a bit of concern. "I've just met someone who went to a union meeting today," he informed the Wonderful One. "Apparently we are going to have to work for not only Wales on Sunday, but for the Echo and the Western Snail as well. Can you believe it?"
Well, yes, as it happens, Withers could. As could the rest of us who have been making arrangements for three months for the switch over - now less than a month away.
To go with my wonderful roast lamb of the other day, I also did some lovely honey roast parsnips. I cut them into batons, covered them in sea salt then roasted them for 10 minutes until they were brown, tossing them in goosefat.
I then added a handful of cumin seeds and smothered them in honey, cooked them for another 10 minutes before serving.