Dead End Street

We wake up a little tired and hungover after Friday night's revelries, and decide that going into town for food's a sensible option. Walking down Botchergate becomes a game of "count the boarded-up windows"; there are far more now than when I was last here, fifteen months ago.

While we're in the pub getting lunch, I'm forced to follow the Albion - Birmingham match via the atrociously slow internet connection on Alastair's Blackberry. It's possibly the most agonising way I've ever gone about watching the football, compounded by the fact that the match itself is a crucial one. All's well that ends well, though: 3-1 to the Albion, our first win for two months. No amount of economic depression can bring me down after a result like that.