Anguish galore. After an hour-long sesson on the phone, with my mad mother's poisonous ranting ringing in my ear, I settled down with a giant mug of Espresso Options mixed with real coffee to goggle at the delectable M. Depardieu in BALZAC. Suddenly the screen just went blank. Not a sound, not a flash, just dead...
One, two, three...
None of my fiddling was of any avail, and although I do have a doddery little backup set, I couldn't manage to get connected to SKY again, until BALZAC was dead and gorn.
Earlier, I had almost convinced myself that I'd won £8000 in the TIMES 'Scrabble' game. Now,I've done this sort of thing often enough to know that I'm always mistaken, but you just can't entirely control that first surge of eejit ecstasy when it looks like you've scored. (I thought that the 'lucky star' thingie could be used like a blank tile in proper scrabble. It can't...)
Otherwise, I lost out in the scrum for 'full figure' bras for £3 at LIDL, about 20 very aggressive curvy Carribean hellcats were ahead of me, and they just wouldn't budge, even enough to let you look.
Later, I watched posibly the worst film in the world, DRACULA 2000.
Fuckin' Ada... Then I heard Peter Ustinov had died!