24th August 2023

I rocked up to work, only to find the place dead as a doornail. Not a single thing to do. Ended up lurking with the history lot, half-listening to their chinwag about God knows what. Did my bit by sorting out a couple of wobbly chairs—proper thrilling stuff, that. Then I just chucked some papers together and fired them off into the ether.

Once I’d wrapped up my bit, I thought I’d check if the cleaners needed a hand. Nah. They were all sat in their little hidey-hole, nattering away like nobody’s business. Not my circus, not my monkeys, so I did a quick bunk.

Got back to my room, and typical—no bloody internet. Oh well. Cracked open my notebook and just scribbled away instead.

Turns out they’d brought in some woodcutters earlier, and the stadium was a proper death trap. Dodging logs left and right like some sort of rubbish action hero. Weather wasn’t half bad though—bit of a breeze, warm but not sweaty-backs warm, just nice. My mate from Perm would’ve been moaning his head off, mind. Twenty-seven degrees? Might as well be the Sahara to those Nordic types, used to living in a freezer all year round.

Meanwhile, Mum was stuck at work dealing with the aftermath of what looked like a food bomb—mountains of minging dishes, soggy napkins, and enough takeaway containers to build a fort.

Last night I was absolutely knackered. Couldn’t even face another page of Italian, and my German class got binned off too. Ended up heading into work stupid early—like, nine in the evening early.

And now, just my luck, my Italian buddy’s swamped with their own stuff. The one day I actually fancy a proper natter, and they’re up to their eyeballs...