A Sunday, + a lie-in. Bliss. But a touch overdone perhaps, since by the time we gobbled down a hasty breakfast + made it to the Cascade, the football on telly had already started. And it just had to be Spurs v West Ham! Unfortunately, I already knew the result, having seen last Monday’s paper, but even tho’ we lost 2-1, it was good to see the lads. Only 2 new ones: a big, clumsy-looking centre forward called Sandy Clark, + a Belgian – he scored the goal, + a good one it was too.
After that programme, apathy seemed to strike us both, + we just sat watching telly for most of the afternoon. As Sunday afternoons in front of the box go, it was not too bad, with mostly pretty good programmes – I think that was the trouble – but even so one feels such a slug afterwards. As it turned out, we only just about had time to get back for Val to have a shower + return to work. I had a flat evening, reading mostly, Graham Greene’s “Quiet American”. It’s alright.
A pretty nothingy sort of day, much like many Sundays, though at least Val earned some money