Easy Like A Sunday Morning

I'm blogging from a friend's house this morning. After a night of drunken debauchery (during which it became apparent that at the age of 22 I'm already too old for this sort of thing), I'm taking it easy. I love waking up here. It's a 4-level terraced house that looks tiny from the front but expands, TARDIS-like, inside.

I was roused by the smell of bacon, scrambled eggs and fried bread, and I'm almost certain I was dragged downstairs, cartoon-like, on the aroma. Just about to have a shower and sit down to Pirates of the Caribbean on DVD, followed by an afternoon in the pub to watch Arsenal play Newcastle.

God, I love weekends.