Creaking at the joints.

Wed a.m. and it is hellish awful outside, rain battering off the roof, and that raw cold feeling.

Tuesday was a long day -with the morning spent sanding walls in the living room and ending up looking like I had turned grey all over - it took longer to clean up the mess. From there it was up and down ladders to get the ceiling emulsioned, just a hurry up job as I was going to work later.

Sparky Mark appeared hobbling due to having pulled a muscle in his back - so he was off for a massage to try and get straightend up.

Eventually got scrubbed up and headed for the Mercat where the staff were to be treated by my presence - have to say that, because I am not used to the bar layout or the new fangled tills so at the moment service is a bit slow!! And apart from that I was feeling my age and aching all over which was not conducive to speedy service.
Samantha having been on her feet all day had sore feet so she was off to put them in a bucket for a soak.
I managed to get the bottom bar sorted out on my own and later, while the football was on managed OK , assisted by the more agile Paddy who ran up and down the stairs for food service.
The football was exciting with a good result for Manchester United - just a pity the fans are going to have to travel to Moscow for the final.

Like Samantha by the time I finished my feet were also killing me so next time it will be practical, comfy footwear, and when I got home there was no problem sleeping.

On the road back last night, I was thinking that I had not heard from Big Simon for a week or so, must get back to the Sportsmans, given the chance- will have to see how today pans out and whether I end up on the road south tonight to Runcorn.

I see that my favourite (NOT) chancer, The Chancellor, doubtless aided by our beloved PM is about to shaft the motorist one again by changing the tax categories, a wee bit oc conniving he did through the back door.