Tired… so very very tired…

I’m barely awake, but will gamely attempt to bash something out that could loosely be described as bloggage. After a long week, working far more than I’m used to (i.e. at all), a weekend with my feet up doing very little is just what the doctor ordered. Shame I’m not going to have one then.

Tomorrow will be spent in attendence at a chum’s birthday spree to Bletchley Park, and on Sunday I’ll be getting on a big metal birdy which will transport me all the way to Hamburg. On Monday I board the QM2 and spend the day working frantically before it leaves port, before finally getting a day of rest on Tuesday when it’s at sea. That’s unless my evil boss manages to come up with something workish we can do while we’re barred from the bridge, and frankly I wouldn’t put it past him. Then on Wednesday it docks in Rotterdam, so no doubt he’ll insist we take the opportunity to do the W word again, and Thursday will be spent messing about with trains and taxis getting home from Southampton. Then I’ve got to work on Friday morning before finally getting some time off.

That whole schedule is obviously open to modification in the event that my tiredness results in an act of gross incompetence that sinks the ship, which frankly is quite likely. If you have shares in Cunard, this might be a good time to sell them.