Thank the Goddess that that's over – tomorrow I get a day off work, after 11 consecutive days at the coalface for three different companies. Only one day off, mind, and then I do six more straight at work. Call it bad time management if you like.
Actually it wasn't too bad, owing to the novelty generated by the variety of tasks and offices and journies and colleagues. But I'm bloody tired, I don't mind telling you.
I'll probably spend at least some of tomorrow in Richmond Park campaigning for Susan Kramer – I'm really not into doing anything much at all this election, but I'm a big fan of Susan's because of her caring reaction when I was attacked on the way home from one of her campaign rallies during the 2000 London Mayoral election and ended up with 17 stitches in my head. She was straight round our flat the next day, seeing if I was alright (and, okay, yes, posing for photos for a press release, but that was my idea not hers). So I'm quite happy to pound the pavements for her tomorrow.
Tonight, though, is slob-out time…