Monday, bloody Monday

Things that have gone wrong already this morning:

*Big spot. On my chin. Just like the one that has set up home permanently on the end of my nose. Perhaps its teenage children have grown up and found a new place to live. Perhaps I should start blasting them with Clearasil, before they have a chance to procreate and populate my face with little zit colonies.

*Puncture. Half way to work. I had to leave the Beast in Bermondsey. I very much doubt it will still be there on my return, particularly as I now don't want it to be stolen, after spending my month's beer money on making it better.

*General poorness not helped by having to buy tube ticket. General sense of wellbeing not helped by having to travel on stinky tube, full of gormless city drones, all plugged into their i-pods and reading the Metro.

Ok, so it's not all that bad really. The beast burst outside the only tube station on my route, which also happens to be next door to a bike shop. A spot is a spot, not the plague, and as the BF said when I was bemoaning said spots/hair in terrible growing out Albert-Einstein phase, "Don't worry babe, you've got a guaranteed shag". Quite.