I woke up to Philip retiring and being slightly tiddly on the radio. "They've got champagne out there." "You've been drinking, haven't you?" "Does it show?" Rang him for a quick natter. Ironic that this should fall on the second anniversary of the "olive poking thing" incident when we sat in the cottage being very, very drunk indeed and laughing at everything.

I didn't go in to do any work today. I was quite tired and feeling less than bright - and by about midday it became apparent there was no chance of me doing anything. I did manage to go shopping (!) and buy Gone in 60 seconds - disappointing not to find a "jump straight to the nice cars" option - as well as a few office bits and pieces and some food. I almost bought a stereo to take with me to France, but I'm not sure whether I need another ickle one or not. I could, after all, take my portable minidisc player and some powered speakers. I have a month to make my mind up.

Come the evening, a headache from hell had settled in so I couldn't be arsed with cooking or anything too difficult. I had pizza - a whole one - consumed with salad and Ibuprofen. I fell asleep on the sofa then only to be woken up by chicken texting to say he was coming round. In his Tesco uniform. Grrr. I might take him to Philip's on Sunday. He's thinking of replacing Matthew on the outward leg.

I will miss the last episode of Voyager. It goes to air on August 13th by which time I'll be in France. Dave has said he'll send me a CD with the DivX of the last two episodes so I don't have to worry. That's bad timing - I should've checked when I booked. Grr.

The closer I get to August 12th, the less I'm worried about stuff like, um, money and things. I'll be interested to see whether my laid-back attitude about it all is well founded. I might wind up drunken and destitute within a month.