Another sleepy Sunday

Walking home through the park, pint in hand and it isn't even three o' clock yet - a sense of achievement partnered two tired legs and a rain-soaked left side from the squally morning. Blackheath celebrated their 150th year with a repeat of the first ever game they played and, although the weather certainly could have been better, much fun was had by all. A proper good old game of rugby with some familiar faces gracing the Heath, the match was a laugh and a great way to spend the morning. By midday everyone was well on their way; it felt like all was right with the world as we strolled back homewards and set to work on a hearty roast. I awoke from my slumber to find Federer had recovered and the other two deep in a recuperative snooze. I think I shall have a yoghurt then ponder my next move.

In the beginning, there was a hangover

I might have to go all existential on you here, but do you think they show the Liverpool games in heaven? It all seems a bit final not ever knowing the score again. Of course, there are always days when you get stuck in a lift where your phone doesn't even work, but at least you can come out and find out the score after the claustrophobia is all over with. Kissing the lift technician can lead to a whole host of other problems, and although I'd always encourage random acts of love and kindness, it might be a little bit over the top.