Blip panic

Up at the crack of dawn to finish preparations for the Grand Prix get-together in my place. It took from 7.00 am until 10.30 too get the place spick and span, a mad last-minute rush caused by the foolishness of last night's birthday cocktails. With the place clean and tidy, it was down to the cooking bit. I'm pretty notorious for not being as well organised as I might be on occasions like this, and I'd be the first to admit that I get into a bit of a flap at times. On this occasion, though, the main dish was complete and slowly doing its thing in the oven a good fifteen minutes before the first guests arrived.

The race itself (the British Grand Prix from Silverstone) was no great shakes as a spectator event, but we enjoyed watching the revival of Ferrari fortunes. Two wins for the team in a row give us hope at least for a real contest during the second half of the season. We watched The Devil wears Prada after the race (great stuff, with a super performance from Meryl Streep and lots of great put-down one-liners). After that, things just went a bit flat, really, and it all broke up with a whimper more than a bang by 8.00 pm.

I took one look at the mess, turned my back on it, and went for a lie-down. Waking in an absolute panic at 10.00 pm I suddenly realised I still hadn't done my blip duty. Panic! So off I went to a bridge over the M1 for this boring old predictable time-lapse shot of motor lights. It was back to bed again after that.