Just THE WEST WING and 24 to go. God, I’m tired. Friday night at The Sun was the usual fun and games, followed by Ross’ birthday do at The Porterhouse, where they have an obscene number of different kinds of beer – if it weren’t so pricey, I’d drink there regularly. So, after the pub chucked out, Fin and I went off to see the Matisse and Picasso exhibition at The Tate Modern, which was open all night as a special event, whcih was cool, especially as we happened to be there in time for a talk the woman who had put the thing together. The we wandered back along the Embankment in seach of coffee, which went a bit wrong, and we wound up in the big KFC near Picadilly with with all the post-club crowds, and what with one thing and another I got home slightly after six in the morning, and then getting up again just before 11 really hasn’t helped my state of awakeness. So I mooched about my parents place all day, then met up with Fin to feed ducks for a bit before getting the train back here. Got VB (and a book on it) from Dad to install on the computer tomorrow so I can learn something new…

A thoroughly cracking weekend, but I feel absolutely shattered. I hope I can stay awake through the season finales…