11. 11th January.

 A 12:15 kick off. 3rd round of the FA cup. Freezing getting there. Freezing being there. Freezing doing the Pink afterwards. Freezing walking back to the car. Back in before 4. Lunch after breakfast. Pretty much right after. Tea by 6. By 8 I feel like absolute shite. Eyes heavy, totally bunged up. Stomach awful. Which I think I'm ascribing to the terrible 'potato and meat (they're not even pretending anymore) pie. 

 Could seriously do without coming down with something, got three Anfield Wraps, a writing class, two nights of judging What Happens Next and a deadline. 

Illness would be quite inconvenient. Massive intention to be better tomorrow. 

Beat Accrington Stanley 4-0. Decent enough. Through to the 4th round. All that matters really. 

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