Last night Chris, Jim, Matt and I had a boys poker night. We agreed at the beginning that we would play for charidee, so we wouldn't get all bitter and twisted by having our friends taking money from us. This was great and theory and good in practice. It meant we could all enjoy ourselves but it did take a little bit of an edge off the betting. The cigars and brandy involved contributed to waking up this morning feeling like I'd slept in the residue of my father's back garden incinerator. Also, sadly, I woke up at 7.30am this morning...
After a morning call from Grandma, I got the call from the three year old, who requested that I come out to play. The three year old is Alexander and he is owned by my very good friends Mike and Sarah. When he calls, you come. So at 10.30 I found myself in Hinksey Park playground, sprinting towards a three year old who was sprinting back at me. There is something very moving about the unequivocal love of a small child.
Tonight I am off to see Walk the Line with Lucy and tomorrow we are planning on seeing Hidden (Cache). Both will be seen at the Phoenix, which has the advantage of a good bar.
And tomorrow morning a lie in watching Match of the Day. Apparently Chelsea lost today. Ho ho ho...
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