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Pre-sun…

Sunning myself on a Greek island later today….

I was served at the bank today by somebody called Janet Jackson. Janet, down on her uppers since the Timberlake revelation, now works reception at Nat West and is rather good at cancelling Standing Orders (but, sadly, a bit sarcastic). I had my credit card refused down the hairdressers, where the stylist ended her performance with “And now, I show you how to make it spiky!”. While waiting nervously for the credit card company to reject my plastic, I diffused and defused the tension by announcing I worked for a newspaper by wafting my security pass around in a “do you know who I am?” fashion. The things we do when the conversation stops. Any, nevermind that, this time tomorrow I’ll be heading to Manchester Airport and then to the island of Kos, where sunshine and funshine awaits.

There’s nothing quite like spilling a sausage and tomato sandwich down your shirt to leave a nasty stain. Not an ideal start to the day but, heck, I’ve looked worse.

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