In between drafting press releases and fishing for some editorial work at a hot and hip new publishing house, I fully intend to watch as much tennis as possible today. The Mahut match starts in a few minutes so I shall sneak off to the living room to see if it's being televised. If not, I'll plod on with earning money until the closer of Henman's first-round match.
Poor beloved P - he didn't get fed until very late last night, glued as I was to the screen in pursuit of Tiger Tim's latest white-knuckle ride. There was no way I was going to cook anything until the match ended. I'm not a victim of Henmania by any stretch, as he can exasperate far more often than truly enthral but last night's play was just magnificent.
After the Henman match, whether I work or not will depend on what other unmissable tennis is due to be screened. Luckily I have no urgent deadlines to hit, else I fear my bank manager would be ringing me in despair.
At least P is home today, which means he can cook while being a tennis widower and I can get on with the important job of following the trajectories of fluorescent yellow balls 200 miles south of Wordsmith Towers...