Another dollar, another day - In the name of Thiago - Day 114

Unless you’re lucky enough to be in a job where you quite literally cannot wait to get going and bounce out of bed to get started, then Monday will always be a day just for getting through. And so it has proved for me today. Like the Baldrick poem in Blackadder Goes Forth, it started badly, kind of tailed off in the middle and the less said about the end the better really. I jest, it wasn’t that bad, I’m just struggling for content today!

The lockdown, while shafting us for our civil liberties, has at least led to me rediscovering my pleasure for two hobbies: reading and quizzing.

I went through a phase of devouring crime thrillers and this chap is probably my favourite exponent of the genre. Chris Brookmyre. He despatches hardened Glasgow criminals with tremendous glee. And he also seems to like Teenage Fanclub or as they are known colloquially; the Fannies. I read the first two Killing Eve novels in a week, so I’m in reasonably good reading form at the moment.

I do like the idea of a good quiz, though I’m not terribly brilliant at answering the questions in them, unless whole sections are devoted to mediocre county championship cricket in the 1990s, which oddly enough doesn’t seem to happen all that often.

Our next quiz night is on Thursday with the Crosslands. There are no agreed parameters for the questions, other than there should be 20 for each team so it could end up being utter carnage especially if they start employing underhand northern skulduggery.

I like to think that Rob being a rugby man, will not disappoint me in this respect, although as a successful businessman, like in rugby, he may well have had to put a few noses out of joints literally and figuratively! Angelica and I will be ready for the battle if you’re reading this Rob and Lesley.

Angelica’s actually doing a quiz tonight as well with some of her nurse friends. Each player gives 20 questions but because there’s at least four of them playing, it takes all fucking night and ends up being a joyful celebration of the increasing levels of madness that coronavirus is dishing out to all of us, often aided by generous measures of Mother’s Ruin!

I’m going to get my nose in a book again after a bite to eat but before I do, just the usual reminder from me to donate if you haven’t already done so to my fundraising mission for the NHS. I've been stuck on £6,576.50 for an age now, come on folks let's see if we can get up to £6,600 tonight!


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