My dad supported Brexit, at least at the time. While living as an immigrant in fucking France! Absolute madman. That's what decades of reading the Telegraph does do your brain. He's pretty sharp in many other regards.
I've put together a good run of late nights and heroic alcohol consumption and now I feel tired. It's like a big wave picked me up and carried me along and now it s broken and I'm in a different condition, subject to the usual human weakness again, weird these things eh.
Got an empty house for the weekend, had y’day off too so ate about half a gram of decarboxylated flower at lunch. Do it that way and there’s no grey area because your flower’s been optimised. No need for gross brownies either, no fat infusions, chew and swallow. Sizzled. No uncomfortableness.
Took a big old walk. Saw a mate who has a new dog, mad looking mix we couldn’t suss, then played a round of pitch and putt (it seemed like a good idea at the time) at Woodthorpe Pk. The only time it’s excusable to play golf.