Phish Market

After a slow morning, the delivery guy called to say that he’d be earlier than planned - and that meant I "luckily" was there to help unload the order. No wonder the supermarkets are running low on supplies; we’ve got them all.
Then off to Hearts v 3rd placed Motherwell. A game which was always going to be a real test wasn’t helped by "conceding a howler" after twenty minutes. But, fair play, we were "back on level terms" shortly after the interval and that’s how it stayed. Back to the Diggers for Heineken 0% - well, we were going out later with a local arty couple who we’re determined to befriend and I desperately didn’t want to roll up half gashed, or start shouting shite, telling inappropriate jokes, going into unnecessary detail about where that draw left Hearts (bloody ten man Hamilton beat Killie with the last kick of the baw), spilling my drinks or holding the cutlery wrongly. Nooo! And it worked! I even got in a mention of Fellini’s Satyricon. Whoah. Wharra chancer.