Well, World, I've been home exactly...three days now, which is about as close to infinity as it could ever be. Time has been sufficiently wasted eating cake, drinking tea, and playing games that most people had finished months ago. I'm so "with the times", you know? Like a real trendsetter, you dig?

I had a nice day out in Swansea on Wednesday. I mean, okay, the actual Swansea part of the day out was rather lame, because that place is a Chernobyl sans lingering radiation. At least compared to the pristine "ooo aaahh waaaaw" of Cardiff. The good part was the trip to The Mumbles. I really like it down there; it's seaside-y, but not too full-on. Sitting on a rock, watching the tide come in, whilst watching a raincloud gather across the bay is perhaps the highlight of my week. That and the purchase of 8 large, white chocolate cookies for the chiefly sum of two pounds sterling! Huzzah! I'm a veritable Alan Sugar. Or maybe David Dickinson; I haven't quite decided the level of my business acumen.

Then, today, I commandeered the television set and managed to watch the full Mexico - R.S.A. match without anyone reaching for the remote. I was, for the most part, left in peace and allowed to watch it with a cup of tea in hand and a cake, filled with butter rum, and covered in coloured marzipan to make it look like a cauliflower. Most exciting food ever? I think so.

Whilst the match was a total "edge of your seat" "rabbit's nose" fest, and I uttered the word sangano no less than 28 times in the course of 90 minutes, thanks to the wonderful David-Beckham-feet of Giovanni Dos Santos and Cuauhtemoc Blanco (amongst 8 others...), it really didn't help the whole "World Cup fever". I can't commandeer any televisual set later on for the France-Uruguay match, and I'm definitely not in the mood to cram into a warm, sweaty, drunk-filled pub just to support the underdog in the name of all that is Hispanic. I could gladly do with an ice cold glass of cola/cider (delete as appropriate), and a sit down in a beer garden (or an air-conditioned room), but the effort of getting showered again, changing, and going out currently escapes me.

On the bright side, the sun is shining; I have the prospect of drinks on Sunday with folks. I just need to survive the cabin fever until then.


In beardy news: the sideburns were patchy, and I'm self-conscious, so I couldn't cope with weeks hoping they'd fill themselves in. However, I have faith in the rest of the growth, and shall leave it in the hope it thickens out. All I need now is a haircut. Self-done, again?