Goodness gracious – no balls of fire

So the boy Fulla & I went on a little twenty mile cycling jaunt last night. Hmm. My sloth like existence & general decrepitude meant that it was not a pretty site. Suffice to say that I finished a long while after Mr F. At the Crown. Where I played Poker. And despite lady lucks best efforts, exhaustion & alcohol combined to make me play my fine hands like a prize cretin. Ho hum. So I staggered up the hill at closing time (pushing the bike) & sat on my front porch. Because low in the northern skies the Perseid meteor shower should be happening. And fell asleep. So I awoke some hours later, totally unable to feel my legs. Meteors seen = 0. Mosquitoes fed = lots.

So now I am at work. Looking and feeling my best. And I have some stuff to do. Some difficult stuff. And I look at it. And look at it. And its really not making a lot of sense. But I read on the net that having a pot belly seriously increases your chances of heart disease. So at least there is a real hope that I won’t live to see my deadlines. A strangely cheering thought right now.