August 18th, 2006

Carravaggio

that was the week that was

Och, lassie, it was hard getting up this morning. A real wrench. I was tired, unwell, unwilling to submit myself to the further bullying of my elders and betters, but most importantly, my bed was warm, the pain killers were just starting to kick in and Sharpe was being all golden and gorgeous on the telly. Sigh.

It was a particular tragedy as, anxious to get home in time for Sharpe the whole bus ride home, but with the driver preferring warp ten (as opposed to the one this morning who dribbled along as though there were a wee man in walking in front with a red flag) I made it home with a whole hour to spare (amazing what a difference a driver can make) and so I got myself all nice and comfy and turned on the telly and...Zzzzz....
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