We should all be at a party right now, but I've called a nightie day. We don't actually own nighties. It's shorthand for sanctioned domestic indolence. Sometimes we have nightie weekends, only moving from the sofa to order pizzas. That said, I have been to Homebase to buy a hose. And collected our furnace hardened mugs from the art shop. And typed up a lot of notes for Tuesday's meeting:-o Yesterday we visited friends who were recently gonged. I'm not one for medals. Give me a prefix any day. It frees you to stamp on the bastards who hand them out, instead of kowtowing. Gongs shoud be saved for useful folk, like lollipop people and voluntary workers. Anyway, we were lunching in leafy Essex with assorted progeny when a waitress with blinding false eyelashes, had a seizure. West Ham were two up in the FA cup. Our hostess promptly insisted we returned home to watch. This was unfortunate as I'm a Liverpool fan. And I cheered them on. And they won: grabbing victory from the jaws of defeat in a mirroring of last year's European championship:-) Erring on the side of caution, we left for home as soon as they'd done their bit at the podium. Now those really are medals worth having...