Tomorrow, at the top of the morning, as we say in Ireland, allegedly, myself and the Wren Church Master who calls himself Jim, will be dragging our weary bones out of bed (not the same bed) and heading down to the famous Billingsgate fish market.
I'm hoping I won't make a total fool out of myself in front of these tough fishmonger types, you know the kind, no nonsense working men, hard men, busy men, smelly men. I wonder what will happen when I ponce up to the counter all confident like and say "Two fish please".
I've bought fish before you know, but that fish came in a packet, or cooked. These fish will still have eyes and other fishy parts still attached. So not being one for guts, I'm going for shrimp. Something I can cook with all the bits still attached and not have to worry. "Two shrimp please".
We're off to the graveyard after that for some fun times then it's a cigar and a pint.
To celebrate all this, I'm about to have a cigar that the wife bought me this week. Another new one called a Winston Churchill Lancaster. I'll tell you about it tomorrow.