The Weekend.

Why is it called a 'week end' when most diaries start with Sunday at the beginning of the week? Actually scrap that, but who decided that was the end of the week, and who called it a week anyway, what does it mean, why is it so? Oh someone tell me please.

Anyway. Besides that musing, I have had a hectic and fulfilling weekend, and feel like I need a rest now thank you please.

Friday night: Curry for J's birthday, ate too much, got too hot, went to a pub, died of heat exhaustion and curry exhaustion, went to Aftershow. Got too hot, went out side, came back in, went outside, came back in, went home half asleep.

Saturday: Up first thing as didn't sleep, watched a bit of saturday kitchen, went and rolled about a retail park testing beds, bought J's present, tracked down veggie parmesan, had lunch in park, went to supermarket, came home, watched the Tour, went to Als garden party, had a cider, walked to restaurant, had a very disappointing meal, went to pub, came home, had toast coz starving, went to bed.

Sunday: Woke at 2.30am and had to eat crackers as I was so hungry, woke early, felt sick, ate a bit of bagel, was sick, finished bagel, felt better, made birthday cake, made potato salad, made coleslaw, watched new gate being fitted, went for a walk, came back, had BBQ, ate cake, played guitar hero, watched Juno, went to bed.


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