Actually it's not been that busy. Bit of a lie-in; event cover at a football tournament (three minor injuries; one direction to the toilet; two coffees; two biscuits; one burger) which was over by mid-afternoon and, er, that's about it. I was going to do some ironing this evening but have given up on the excuses of "you're either cooking or doing something else" and "you're either diarylanding or something else" and "I can't be bothered"

Having selected my dinner, I then had to decide whether to accompany it with beer or wine. Wine won, on the basis that I have six bottles of beer but over forty bottles of wine. I selected a bottle purely for the decorative stringy lattice-work that made it look quite posh and sophisticated.

Those of you who are throwing up your hands in horror and thinking "but you can't drink red wine until it has had time to breathe" can be reassured. I have a air-blower gizmo that has the effect of breathing a bottle of wine for you (or so the blurb says). And anyway, I'm a philistine when it comes to drinking wine. I think the last word in that sentence may have been superfluous. You decide.

The football tournament started at 0830 but I warned my colleagues that I wouldn't be there until mid-morning as I needed a lie-in. I've had a busy week - out until gone 2230 four nights (three training, one event cover). I have postponed a couple of things scheduled for next week in order to give me a freer week (and because it gives me an unjustified sense of self-importance to have such control over my diary)

The event cover was one of the regular far-better-than-it-sounds organ concerts. A chap called Nicholas Martin. Very, very good, and you should make every effort to see him if you get the chance. There is an indiscernible quality that makes an entertainer stand out above others in the same field, and he has that quality.

On one day I had a bit of excitement, but, sorry, I'm going to be deliberately vague in this paragraph in order to protect the innocent and guilty. Suffice to say that at points I was thinking "this could go horribly wrong" and "I shouldn't be on my own but there's nothing I can do about it". Luckily events turned out in a way that I was able to get assistance and things didn't go horribly wrong. The following day I got a "thank you and apologies" - to which I replied "you don't have to apologise until you've done something you need to apologise for" (Ruby bonus points if you know where I misquoted that from), and someone else commented how touched they were that people would help someone because they wanted to, rather than because they had to.

My neighbour had a delivery from Ocado this evening, and the van was parked outside for longer than would be deemed necessary to drop off a couple of boxes of groceries. I did wonder if the driver was getting some form of Robin Asquith "Confessions of ..." bonus (each to his own), but overhearing his half of a phone call suggested that the reason was that he couldn't get entry to the flat. Pressing the bell might have been a good start.

I went on a course last weekend to learn how to be a fire marshal. It taught me how things burn, how to assess things that might catch fire, how to spot hazards, and stuff like that. It didn't, however, teach me the importance of not putting plastic bags on a cooker hob, which would have saved me a bit of hassle later in the day. In deference to the trainer (and to quote one of my mother's ad nauseam statements) "common sense should have told you". Do all mothers say "common sense should have told you"?