Sunday 13th May 2018

Sunday.

No MOTD to watch.

And despite being home by half ten last night, I lay in bed until nearly half seven, then laying some more looking at the light on the curtains before deciding it was time to get up. There was a coffee waiting for me, which was nice, although Jools then went out to do some gardening, until I my backside in gear to cook the bacon for butties. There is bacon from Tesco and there is butcher's bacon, and having been to Preston the day before, we had the latter, and Mark had put some extra rashers in too, so that after counting out the six rashers for Jools, I found there was eight and a bt for me, and making a sandwich nearly an inch thick.

I make it vanish, and with the garden pretty much under control, I decide to got o Folkestone for a haircut, and maybe a look round the record store afterwards....

Yes, that seems like a good idea.

I drive into town then up the A20, through Capel and down into Folkestone, ending up parking behind the record shop at the top of the Old High Street.

Just a minute or so's stroll to the barber, and he is just finishing with the first customer of the day, I will be second, so I browse through the local paper to find nothing much happening, so we all look out the window to watch a parking warden issue a ticket to a builder unloading his van opposite. Apparently, common sense in short supply.

I am in the chair and he tames my main; we talk about music, the town, holidays and Brexit. It passes the time.

A short walk away is the record shop; I was hoping to get the Public Service Broadcasting twelve inch, but they did not take part in record store day this year, and I understand why. Everyone making money except the stores, and fans getting ripped off on e bay. Anyway, they don't have the Yello lp nor the latest Sparks one we want, so I make do with a mint copy of The Fall's How I Wrote "Elastic Man" for six quid. Could have been worse, there was a mint copy of Part Time Punks for thirty, I was very tempted.

I go home, arriving back just after twelve meaning it was nearly lunchtime, so I prepared the asparagus, cut and buttered the bread, and soon we had a fine healthy lunch, both drinking orange squash too! See, it can be done.

And for the rest of the afternoon, it was all football. The final round of games of the Premier League games for the season, but with most of the issues already sorted, it was just a few loose ends to be tied up, but then, football? What's not to like?

Well, two and a bit hours of following the scores and stories on the radio and Twitter. Swansea relegated, Liverpool in the top 4, Wenger's last game, and in the very final minute Manchester City win their 32nd game and reach 100 points for the season. Incredible stuff, and something I didn't think we would ever see. Over 38 games they dropped just 14 points in those 38 games. Amazing. They scored the most goals ever, won the most games, most passes, highest pass completion rate over the season, and were simply the best team by a country mile.

For dinner there is Chozo hash. Again. But we likes it, it has vegetables in it, which is supposed to be good for you.

Mum calls. She has been out again this week, and seems happy with that, or just eager to please? I don't know.

And that is it, the evening slipped through our fingers again. We listened to the radio a while before going to bed just before ten.