Sunday evening

I gave serious thought, first thing (like, 4.30am first thing) to not getting up and staying in bed all day. However, by the time the alarm went off at 5.51am (I don't like round numbers on alarms), I was feeling slightly better, and the ear-ache, in particular, had started to subside.

Besides, Mali wouldn't have been too impressed if I'd failed to surface (although I'm sure P would have coped, somehow).

It's been a fairly mundane Sunday - although I've been trying to avoid heading into town these last few weekends-before-Christmas, ex had asked me to pick up a Debenhams gift voucher, so we did indeed set forth and brave the... well, masses might be overstating it. I'm not saying that town was quiet, exactly, but it certainly wasn't heaving.

A queue jumper nearly came to blows with me in Debenhams, actually - we'd picked up the gift cardlet thing, and were queueing, as one does, at the 'please queue here' sign, waiting for an available cashier, when this middle-aged woman steamed straight past, to stand immediately behind the person being served, looking impatient.

A second till opened up, and the woman called out 'next, please,', at which point the afore-mentioned queue-jumper thrust her stuff onto the counter, and *gold star moment*, the shop clerk said 'actually, I think the gentleman was first.'

"No he wasn't," snapped the woman, which proved the trigger for me getting involved.

"Actually," quoth I, "I was. But don't mind me, you go on ahead..."

I was really good, honest, and tried not to let the 'don't mind me' sound very sarcastic.

Anyway, that really got my adversary's back up, but a third clerk, evidently sensing a storm brewing, stepped into the breach and opened up a third till just for me.

But man, was the queue-jumping woman not happy: she was chuntering away at the poor sales assistant who'd initially hesitated at serving her, and she was avowedly not looking in my direction at all.

Tired now. Work tomorrow. Blech.