Want to come back to the Vatican for some pope pourri?

Sheffield
Originally uploaded by Dolores Luxedo.

It's been a very busy week. On Satuday I worked in the pub. Iffy air conditioning. Very hot. At about 7 a load of people stumble in wearing Brighton football shirts and singing "Oh! One nil! Oh! To Brighton! O, the Albion! One nil!". They buy a massive round. £36 or so. And then stumble about singing football songs. However, it turns out B&H Albion were playing in Doncaster or something like that. In fact, they were a bunch of drunk Irishmen on a pub crawl who had bought a load of cheap football shirts from a shop. They start wreaking havoc, and eventually we throw them out. They go up the road to the Railway Bell, where, about an hour later, they flag down a taxi and try to run into it with a load of chairs they've stolen from The Railway Bell. Needless to say, the taxi driver tells them to bugger off. The Railway Bell call the police, I think, and they all run off down Trafalgar Street.

Rosanne ended up going clubbing in London on Friday night and passed out in this club, being helped home by Rob Focuz and and a bunch of 30somethings. As Rob puts it, "It must have looked so dodgy, 4 men in their 30's carrying around an unconscious teenage girl at 4 in the morning." Dude. She woke up in a house in London, boked up on the Underground, and made it to work only 5 minutes late. That girl is hardcore. I had a really nice day on Saturday sitting on the beach with Elizabeth. Beginning to think it might be actually summer and I can stop wearing thick coats and scarves and bobble hats.

Heh, I just kid. I own no bobble hat.