I'm glad it's Friday
I can't decide whether I'm (a) ridiculously knackered after only two days back at work; (b) coming down with something; or (c) going to die of eating porridge made with oats that were best before 24 November 2016* for breakfast.
Whichever it is, I'm glad it's the weekend.
* They weren't very nice, but by the time I realised how old they were I was irrevocably committed** to them.
** ie, had got to work and faced a stark choice between ancient porridge and no breakfast, as I hadn't bothered to go to the Co-op after swimming and buy anything else.
Whichever it is, I'm glad it's the weekend.
* They weren't very nice, but by the time I realised how old they were I was irrevocably committed** to them.
** ie, had got to work and faced a stark choice between ancient porridge and no breakfast, as I hadn't bothered to go to the Co-op after swimming and buy anything else.