BLT, however, is over-rated.   Leave a comment

Fried onion and brown sauce, that’s what you want.

On Monday I decided I liked BST so I’d stay there. Everything else getting an hour later would probably be quite convenient, anyway.

It was also probably my least favourite day of the year: Halowe’en. When horrors walk the earth demanding sweeties.

I really can’t stand it. I don’t see why it’s acceptable for people to come around banging on my door with what amounts to agressive begging, threatening (or causing) criminal damage, and perhaps, if you’re lucky, demanding money with menaces, on any day of the year. Ugh. And encouraging that behaviour in children? Really? No good can come of it.

So I left all the lights off downstairs, lurking upstairs until I went to the gym early – before dinner – to avoid the obnoxious creatures.

It didn’t turn out so well; whilst successful in its primary objective, my attempted exercise was rather a failure. Apparently being hungry causes me to get a stitch, and quite a thorough one at that; I couldn’t manage nearly as much as normal on the treadmill, and didn’t even try to jog home. There’s no point causing yourself pain for no reason.

My lasagne was tasty, at least, and afterwards I did the washing up, which made all the rest of the night vanish. There’s probably a temporal anomaly in the plughole.

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