That’s me done then. I’m on my way home on the train after the last of my five consecutive Steve Lamacq shows, looking shifty again, as I don’t want anyone to see over my shoulder. I am tired. I am, as previously stated, hot in my layers. Day Five will, I predict, wind down with some telly and me nodding off. I plan to eat something made of eggs. I love eggs. Unusually, I have four fresh eggs in my bag, unless they have all been smashed by me putting the laptop on my bag. These come from Rachel, who works at 6 Music. Actually, not from Rachel, but from her bantam chickens. She had heard that I like eggs and very sweetly offered me some – her hens lay up to 14 a week and she can’t keep up with them. I definitely eat 14 eggs a week, on my own! They are small, but imagine how lovely they will taste!
That’s it, then. One more working half-day tomorrow, and I will no longer be blogging like this. Thanks for reading. It’s been good. Next week: all sorts, including a day of calculating my VAT for the last quarter, more Radio Times, more reading of books about the 20th century, the last 7 Day Sunday of this series (everything’s ending!), and I hope a couple of trips to the cinema and one to the Royal Academy to catch the modern British sculpture exhibition before it ends. Also, a secret thing to do with the Guardian.
The man across the aisle from me on the train is ordering Nando’s. You can tell he’s embarrassed at having to do it with the entire carriage listening to him. He’s having extra hot sauce. Richard Herring would be impressed. He’s welcome to it. I’m having eggs out of a bantam hen.