My weekend.
I’ve had my parents staying for the weekend, which has been nice. Despite being our guest my mother has insisted on cooking, then criticising the weight I’ve put on in recent years. Joyous.
I was pleased to hear that a good friend of mine (and reader of this blog) has finally plucked up the courage to ask out his crush, and is waiting eagerly for their first date. How very Dawson’s Creek.
My father and I were out shopping on Saturday, passed a generic electrical retailer and were rather pleased with ourselves at Wales’ 8-0 lead over Italy. We weren’t so pleased when we got home to find we’d drawn the match 18-18, at home no less. We were equally unimpressed by today’s cack-handed performance by England against the French. What a load of bollocks this Six Nations tournament has been. However, it must have been great for the bookies.
Speaking of sport, rumour has it that Joe Calzaghe will headline a monster night of boxing in the Millennium Stadium, sharing top billing with Ricky Hatton. Looks like I’ll be in Cardiff on July 8th then… Of course, barring a sudden lottery win or the abolishment of airport taxes, this will certainly put paid to my plans to see Guns N’ Roses in both Dublin on June 9th and Paris on June 20th. Nevermind. Speaking of Guns N’ Roses, Gilby Clarke is playing in London in May. I must get myself a ticket.
On Friday I’m at Guy’s hospital manning a stand promoting the site that I’d made for work, in the company of a Nobel prize winner, no less. I also need to somehow find the time to get the medical image database up and running, which is a tall order considering I know fuck all about databases or web servers, and my go-to guy leaves his job on Friday.
Ooh, and I won a Wrestlemania T shirt. If good luck comes in threes, then I’m due my third soon…