Saturday 8am: waking up, cup of tea Sunday 8am (or is it 9am, I'm confused): waking up, cup of tea
Saturday 9am: planning to go out somewhere Sunday 9am: every time I think I've turned the last clock back, I remember another
Saturday 10am: with every other East London tube line shut down this weekend "because of planned engineering works", the Central line is a bit cattletruck Sunday 10am: still finishing yesterday's newspaper, cup of tea
Saturday 11am: the suburbs rattling by, carriage entirely to myself, not been this far out in 30 years Sunday 11am: getting the washing done, bagging the recycling
Saturday noon: it's lucky this museum has a devoted band of local volunteer friends, because there's not much here to justify the two quid entrance fee for visitors Sunday noon: that's the middle of daylight hours already (should've got up earlier)
Saturday 1pm: the autumn colours in the Chilterns are particularly fine this weekend Sunday 1pm: have tidied up, so my flat looks a little less like a bomb's hit it
Saturday 2pm: when I asked for a baguette, I wasn't expecting to have to wait for five minutes while some nice lady in the back kitchen rustled up a foot-long chunk of bread filled with sizzling pigflesh (damned nice though) Sunday 2pm: it beats me how HMRC can describe filling in the online annual Self Assessment form as "straightforward"
Saturday 3pm: defective train at Holborn, sigh Sunday 3pm: I would go out somewhere, but it'll be dark in an hour and a half
Saturday 4pm: not convinced these shoes go with these trousers (I never was any good at dressing non-casual) Sunday 4pm: chicken's nowhere near defrosted yet
Saturday 5pm: a depressingly high number of people appear to be enjoying shopping at One New Change Sunday 5pm: sigh, dark already (the next time the sun sets after 5pm will be in the second week of February)
Saturday 6pm: yes, let's do the à la carte menu, despite the fact I really don't like anything on it, except the desserts, oh but we're only having starters and mains are we, never mind, I'll cope Sunday 6pm: unexpected phone call from a former colleague to discuss general business unpleasantness
Saturday 7pm: the usual mess when five people try to settle a restaurant bill and one person's only got plastic Sunday 7pm: there was a time when I cared passionately what the Number 1 record was, but in this manufactured X Factor era I no longer care
Saturday 8pm: watching Yes Prime Minister from the stalls, and have almost come to terms with the fact that Jim, Humphrey and Bernard are being played by three completely different actors Sunday 8pm: Hallowe'en's no problem when you live in a London flat - no trick or treater ever bothers to buzz your entryphone
Saturday 9pm: thoroughly enjoying this modern take on the 1980s Whitehall classic, even if at times it feels like three sitcom episodes strung out to the length of four Sunday 9pm: sitting in the dark with just three IKEA tealights for illumination, as is my Hallowe'en tradition
Saturday 10pm: emerging, smiling, into West End streets full of drunken witches and unconvincing zombies Sunday 10pm: cup of tea, Club biscuit
Saturday 11pm: Edward Scissorhands rides past on a BorisBike Sunday 11pm: feels well past bedtime already (because it is)
