No place like home

Ahhh Manchester.....all the denizens were out playing in the public fountains in Piccadilly gardens when I walked through and letting all their newly sunburnt red and white bits hang out. Even the tramps had vest tops on.
I'm sure I didn't leave my flat in this state.
Richard Branson's personal vendetta against me continues - he stopped all trains to Manchester from London last night two minutes before I arrived at Euston. I rang various people who were all away or otherwise engaged - obviously I need to make some more boring friends in London. Everyone promised to put me up or find someone to do so if I needed it but then I spotted the train to Rugby and so got halfway home and visited the Black Pig on the way and continued on this morning.
I'm going to have a fire in the back garden.
ahh..home, but it definitely wasn't this messy when I went