I've had a great weekend. Friday night was spent doing nothing, Saturday night we went to a party near London Bridge that went on into the wee hours, front doors were ripped off and the floor was littered with cold, spent N₂O cannisters. Sunday was spent sleeping.

I hereby declare a one month detox. This means no alcohol or combustibles of any sort. I am to get to the gym at least three times a week. I don't eat shit so there's nothing to be done to the diet, other than eat more.

I feel like shit, at my age I should be feeling a whole lot better.

I went ton see the physio at work about my generla fitness, he says I am on the right track, so far... so good.

The ceiling has still not been finished. The plaster has dried, now we wait for the bastard Russian builders and the c*nt property agent to finish the job so that we can get back to normal living. The property agent does not want on credit us the inconvenience and this makes me want to burn him alive. I don't know how people can be so blindly unreasonable.