Of sleep. Just totted it up, I have been out 20 of the last 23 nights! Christ, I'm bloody 41 years old, what am I doing? Las Vegas, New York, friends in town, work dinners and now my brother's here, who had the cheek to text me earlier saying that he still felt hungover and tired from last night, and he was lying in the sun on the beach at the time. He should have tried interviewing two candidates for a job this morning at 7.30, whilst trying to keep it together.
I need sleep, but without any doubt before staggering into bed tonight I will set my alarm for 8.30am allowing myself to get up for the Coventry game. My brother adding 1 more Addick to the list of fans that the club continues to ignore outside the boundaries of a BBC London or Kent signal. For those of you going, lets remind Dowie
how passionate we were, and don't boo him, just thank yourself that when the nightmare stopped last season, a man called Alan Pardew walked into our lives.
My brother is here until Tuesday, so what's that? Another 4 nights out on the lash, gawd, oh and an old mate and his new Missus arrive in Chicago on Monday for the start of their honeymoon, so we're taking them out Monday night. The wedding is tomorrow and by the way good luck to the best man, who for every minute leading up to him sitting down after his speech, will be wishing he was at the Ricoh Arena.
Tonight we are going on the Untouchables Tour
, which is a two hour runaround of all the gangster places of 1920s Chicago. Should be fun and after, ooh let me see, we could probably go for a drink?