In Praise of Women or I Can See The Light or Now I Don't Have To Widdle On My Shoes Anymore...

Don't know what Bono was on about (note to humourless folk - where's my tongue? Oh look, my cheek!) but in my book that song should have been called Monday Bloody Monday.

I hauled myself out of bed, staggered to the kitchen and downed as much coffee as I could before walking from Camberwell to the River in the rain. Finn was yelling "I wan go bookshop with daddy!" as I left and generally acting sad that I was going - something that kept me in a cheery mood most of the walk as I had started to wonder if the little chap knew who his dad was. He also claimed to have been dreaming about Fulham last night - something else guaranteed to put a smile on my face - though nightmares would probably be more appropriate since we just lost to Hull. (Hull!)

Lower Marsh always looks worse on a rainy Monday. I decided I needed more coffee so swerved into Scooterworks for a takeaway latte. Fifi was there and so was Craig. I was feeling so anti-social I just muttered a hello and went to sit by the back door until the drink was ready. With a weak smile I left, realising I had just done my bit to confirm the stereotype of booksellers being miserable people.

So far so Monday. Hauled the shutters up and got splashed with muddy water. Grrr. Opened the door. Turned on lights. Went to have a quick "p" before the first punters arrived and...

DAH DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HOLY COW BATMAN!

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BOG?

The light in the bog has been broken for a while. (I mean the bulb needed changing) I thought it was probably a couple of weeks but Adam thinks it was more like FOUR MONTHS. It is hard to even think about cleaning things in the dark. But that excuse sounds just a teensy bit lame when faced with the gleaming surfaces of our madeover toilet.

Thankyou. We are not worthy. Thankyou. I will say it again - thankyou.