I try to stop National Theatre sending me emails. Form doesn't work. I fill in bug report form. I receive 'Out of Office AutoReply' email.
Feel better for soaking up beers with pizza. Now watching programme about Park Hill flats in Sheffield and English Heritage.
I'm sick of the sigh' of the 'ole bloody lo' of yer. Go on, sling 'er hook!
The moving office project is like a task off of The Apprentice, only with nicer people. Sir Alan would be shouting later though.
I really don't think that coffee I had earlier was decaf. Anyway, off to help the Schwebb cave change coordinates now.
Still sweating from swim. Now: breakfast patrol.