If you know your history Oh a week I've had. Monday I was out with my Bermudian Addick Therapist, who after a couple of lager shandies was waxing lyrically about community and togetherness and resurrection. If one ever doubts the impact the history of our club has on newish fans then I would thoroughly recommend a night out with LookOut from Charlton Life. He's right of course, moans and groans about the exertions of loan players or 'Agents' Hudson or Butterfield etc should be put into the overall context of what supporting our club is all about.

Tuesday I met a couple of old London mates, both here separately on business. Both good lads and Rangers and Forest fans respectively. A night of catching up, swapping tales, telling tales and the odd cold lager. I got home much later than anticipated, and quite trollied. You know when you're in trouble when sleepy-other-half wakes to see you pulling your trousers over your ankles and she enquires into why you're going to work early. Whoops!

And then tonight I have to, in a minute, get ready for a cocktail party that requires wearing a wig. I did have my play off final red and white one somewhere but I can't find it, so I had to sort that out this afternoon. A wig party, I ask you. How ridiculous.  ¶ 16:48