Wasn't actually gonna mention anything about the pope's funeral cos I really don't wanna go on & on & sound like a religious freak. That was until Rob phoned me. I have now realised that he may well be the smart one. Understandably, this was somewhat of a shock.

So I got up at eight thirty this morning (I genuinely thought the only way that could be achieved was if I didn't go to bed the night before) & my mum decides we're watching BBC one. Not ITV - what are we, common? (yes we are. We really, REALLY are). Ok my mum didn't really say that. She just likes the BBC. So we don't watch ITV today at all.

Unlike Rob, who appears to have the attention span of a ritalin addicted puppy on its third espresso. He channel hopped to ITV pretty damn early (despite the fact that - technically all the channels were showing THE SAME THING).

And found Father Peter doing the commentary.

He did the entire thing. According to Rob, he was pretty good. We even got a shout out (Newman house, not me & Rob).

And I missed it.

I'm slightly fucked. I know no one else will mind. But I mind!

At least my dad's happy. He's found an estate full of footballers who want him to tarmac their driveways. Today it was Bruno from footballers wives (ok not a real footballer but near enough. PS Noelle, you will be exposed to this show at some point when I get back. You'll like it - it's trashy!). Last week it was Almunia, the Arsenal goalie. (Yes Rob was very excited about that. Arsenal loving git!). The week before, a couple of QPR players. All these people live round the corner from each other. Anybody else find this freaky? It's worse than Desperate Housewives.

My dad tends to find himself working somewhere weird about once a year. Last year it was next to the Eastenders set & he met about half the cast. The year before that I think he did some work on Jackie Stewart's house. Who says construction is a boring career choice?