I dropped the RW off at the airport early this morning. She's off to Welsh Wales to visit her son/sister & brother-in-law, leaving Archie, Peanut and the staring Toastie, (along with the Silent Assassin), to look after me!

I think of the bliss of a weekend on my own.... yes, I actually DO enjoy my own company... and then have a quick look at my diary, and realise that any serious "play" would be consigned to an hour this afternoon, and maybe a couple of hours on Sunday after services, before she returns on Sunday evening. So much for plans to paint the town red!

I was going to put some time aside to go for Morris Dancing Classes, so that I could feel a bit more in-tune with my English brothers, and have a bit more empathy with their culture, but that's out the window now.

I'll need to prepare myself for the Dutch knocking at least five goals past Scotland tomorrow instead. It's worse than Partick Thistle Nil. Going to Amsterdam with around 10 call-offs from the squad is just suicidal! Do you think those who called off know something?

My son is off to Amsterdam to watch. Through his fingers probably!