Pie and bovril

... the only food for a football match.

Today I watched my team get beaten by a last minute goal so I'm not a happy bunny. The only redeeming feature of the afternoon was the traditional halftime pie and bovril although, technically, the steak pie should be a Scotch pie for 100% authenticity. The rest of the day has been a write off.

Time for bed and an extra hour in it as the clocks go back. Let's hope I get some sleep.

Methought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep,’ the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.

Macbeth (2.2.46-51)