There was a time in a chaps life when he could come home from a long day at the office, sit down by the fire with a dog on one side, an industrial sized gin on the other and survey the fruits of his labour.
That was then, before the onslaught of this blasted modern blight that befalls us all every few months - the bloody Book Club coming round, "It's my turn dear, I told you about it weeks ago." I bet you bloody did dear; what by, semaphore with a hill in between?
Anyway, the Witches Coven are on their way, no doubt with their usual indomitable thirst for my wine, so I'm off to the Mill Tavern to find solace with beer drinking chums and the delicious new barmaid.
Life isn't what it was......