Weakened

Nothing outrageous/stupid has happened for the last few days. Things of note:

• I now know someone who lives in a penthouse flat.
  
• I've eaten breakfast at Tesco.
  
• Cardiff's lovely at this time of year. Proof of the impending apocalypse.
  
• Didn't see Scuba Jamie. He had some lame excuse about his restaurant being busy on Friday and Saturday nights.
  
• I stayed with two very talented writers who are going out with each other. It's like the heyday of Ken and Em. She's dominating BBC One, he's doing rather well in London. Their cat ignored me all weekend.
  
• The sign outside the Splott Conservative Association just says "Splott Cons".
  
• I used the penthouse balcony to spy on a tracksuited-gay getting ready for a date. He spent an hour hoovering his bedroom (obsessive), and turned out not be that pretty. Stalking is so 90s.
  
• My new dishwasher and washing machine turn up tomorrow. Unplumbing the existing ones took ages, stank and was boring. And yes, the washing machine appears to have been leaking for a year.
  
• I'm reading Margery Allingham at the moment. My vocabulary's top hole.
  
• I've fallen into the habit of meeting lovely intelligent people... and getting drunk in front of them.
  
• I'm at the age where mixing an evening's drinking with a glass of red wine, no matter how small, guarantees hangover.
  
• Tonight, I'm going out for drinks with a man who's run the London Marathon.