Six days in a row at work; I'm whacked out and sick of the sight of those walls. I appreciate this is a breeze compared to what I'll go through shift-wise in the Police, but six days straight of the general retail public is more than enough right now thank you very much. Strangely though I'm wide-awake still convincing me that my genes are, and always will be, part-Owl.
Thankfully I have a day off tomorrow, though it's going mostly to be mostly spent visiting garages due to some indiscriminate vandalism of my car on Friday night. No idea why; seemingly the wrong place at the wrong time. Why not the flashy Volvo a few space up, eh guys? Shame really as it spoiled what was otherwise a really good night out. Curry followed up by a Guinness. Globalisation has its benefits.
Boy am I looking forward to getting hold of some of these wankers and shoving them in cells though. I could almost understand someone breaking a side window to steal, but just vandalising because you can and you're pissed up. Yeah, very big and clever. Roll on June.
Anyway I'm off to read myself to sleep. Currently ploughing through John Twelve Hawks' The Traveller. It's a good fun thriller, does exactly what it says on the tin, but is unlikely to change the face of literature any time soon. I wanted something lighter after reading plenty of non-fiction of late.
Right, I best turn this thing off. Warm covers, pages and the stillness of the midnight hour awaits.