Sunday 18th March 2018

A third of a century today, I started work in the chicken factory. A third of a century; 33 years. In that time I saw my fair share of dead chickens, joined the RAF, drank my share of beer and port, liven in Germany for three years, deployed to Italy, did two exercises in Las Vegas, married twice, divorced twice, lived in Norfolk (twice) Wiltshire, learned to drive a truck, forklift, left, delivered beer, looked for oil in Indonesia, the North Sea, Kazakhstan, joined the wind industry, moved to Kent, met Jools and the rest. Phew.

And nearly ten years of it is recorded here. In these pages It has been quite a ride.

And the next part of the adventure is to arrange this year's adventure, which we had been putting of for a few weeks, for various reasons, but with snow on the ground and the land in the grip of permafrost, we were going nowhere that day, so best get busy with the internet.

But it is Sunday, and that means watching MOTD and eating bacon butties, possibly even at the same time. It looks mighty cold outside, but I put lots of seeds and food out for the birds, and they seem very happy indeed. Back indoors for coffee and then grilling bacon for Jools then me, so I can ten take myself to the sofa to watch the recording of the football. Maybe only four games, but all with lots resting on them. The bacon is cooked within an inch of being brined, so is perfect in fresh bread and melting butter.

OK, so the trip: this year we are going back to America, five days in New York, four days in Boston, and five north of Boston at location yet to be decided. Once the bones had been agreed, we pick the dates on the BA website, choose our flights, where in Manhattan we wanted to stay and click "book".

Done.

And that was that.

I did a session on the cross trainer. Then Julie did, and so with no plans to leave the house, we decide to have dinner for lunch, roast beef and all the trimmings, so at 11, I pop the seasoned joint in the oven and prepare the vegetables. Simple. As. That.

There is nothing like roast beef, Yorkshire Pudding, steamed veg. And gravy. We had bought a bottle of fizz to go with it, and it was all rather marvelous.

After washing up and tidying up, I take to the sofa and battle sleep all afternoon with the two cup games on. Seems a bit of a waste of an afternoon, watching football, when none of the teams are taking it 100% seriously, but then it was snowing outside.

And that was the weekend, ended up with Jools and I playing cribbage, I won by a single point, but I was battling sleep. So at nine we go to bed.

Phew.