Gloriously fed up today. After spending the weekend in Dorset rambling wildly up grassy mains screaming “I can see the SEA!” like someone who’s on day release, dislocating my jaw in order to enjoy a wedge of sponge cake the size of a family home and deciding with conviction it’s necessary to stop at every pub to rest your wind-swept knees, no wonder it took me within the region of 1.17 minutes of being on the tube at 8am to resume my usual London P.O.V. of wanting to scalp everyone in sight and dance around the various bouffants with the confidence and complacency of a seasoned cannibal.