Mrs O and I have been in Belgium for a long weekend. Ah, what bliss was it to be alive. We watched a bike race, drank some vee fine Belgian beers and ate a pizza géante. Our enjoyment was heightened, I'm ashamed to confess, by the knowledge that the weather in the low countries was considerably better than in Blighty. I should be bigger and better than this at my age. The fact that I'm not makes me think I'll never now grow-up fully. Oh, well, there are worse crosses to bear.
The trouble with joyous weekends away is that it throws the working week into sharp relief. As you flail away at the keyboard on your first morning back, the dissolute part of your brain keeps reminding you that you're wasting your life. "Why not live in a hotel in Belgium full-time? Oh, we'd cope. Don't be so negative." I was so tired I almost gave into the rotter today. Tomorrow will be better. Yes, yes, I'm sure that's right.
"The sun'll come out tomorrow...betcha bottom dollar etc."
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