Yurgh! I'm feeling a trifle delicate this morning. I blame a certain local brewer. Well, no, that's not fair really. After all, he wasn't the idiot who poured eight pints down the old Eastcliff gullet. No, that was me.
Thanks to everyone involved in putting on such a splendid bash at the bandstand yesterday. And apologies to everyone I bored with my latest gut-busting joke about the trainee psychic who packed it in because he couldn't see a future in it. Somehow it doesn't seem quite as amusing this morning.