To school with the lads; slithering across the sparkly whiteness of the pavements. And home to  charge cameras, clean lenses and change beds.

After a productive morning at home, I went to drop my library book back and head over to a 'secret location' for some paid work. With the 9th anniversary of an esteemed / reknowned / celebrated blipper*, I had been commissioned to record the happy event. "Imagine a shot of an erudite, sophisticated but down to earth gentleman, one with gravitas but also the common touch; a shot for the dust jacket of my memoirs (AKA my collected Blipramblings) - the day to day jottings and notes of a patron of the arts, an appreciator of fine dining and cuisine, a noted expert in beverages and brews"
I nodded and got a snap of him doing the Daily Star crossword, although obviously he'll tell everyone it's the Spectator or the Grauniad or....
Actually the luvvies and the hosts were great; donning tweeds and flat caps and posing for their upcoming shows all over this land.

With it all in the can, I bade the regal pair adieu and went off to rescue Her from work; she went for a bus pass for her lass; I got a rail card of the family variety and off for a steak / wedge / chipotle sauce combo; and some peace and quiet as the snow fell gently outside. Hardly safe to cycle home so I hunkered down for the night, wrapped up against the cold.

*If you read Pensioner's blip you'll get the real story