There's little chance of getting much sleep around here right now as we enter our third consecutive night of aerial bombardment in war-torn North East Lincolnshire. Well at least that's what it sounds like.
Funnily enough, mere mention of the word "bombardment" last weekend would have had my three year old nephew throwing furry dice at all and sundry based on something he saw on The Simpsons once, but that's another story.
I cheated on Friday night by availing myself of a few long awaited ales to aid the cause, but with the festive season fast approaching, there had to be a more cost effective alternative. So yesterday and today I've spent a couple of days at home busying myself with some of the jobs I've been meaning to get out of the way.
So here we are on Sunday night with everything ticked on the list and the best achievement of the weekend? All of the Christmas presents are bought and on their way. Result.
Next job is to decide what to busy myself with next weekend...
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I can't even take the dog out in the mornings without some eejit setting off fireworks.
The dog's a urine soaked nervous wreck....
So it's a YouTube fest of Pink Floyd Live at pompeii.
You did that last year. It's not normal, Seany. You have to leave it 'til 24 December and then run around in 3 hours buying 25 presents for 25 family members for under a fiver. Or is that just me?
I've never claimed to be anywhere near normal Cherrypie!
That said, my method does have stresses of it's own - I'm now completely in the hands of the postal service and there always seems to be one present that doesn't arrive until the 11th hour...
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