This morning started far earlier than I would have liked, but still, got down to Gloucester Road at about 9:30 and picked up ticket number sixty-three. So walked into town, around town, up Whiteladies Road, across the downs, took the long way round back to Gloucester Road, had my free coffee and cake. Then walked up Gloucester Road, St. Andrews Park, went for a pee, then back again. Sat on a windowsill for an hour and then finally got called in. Numbers sixty-one and sixty-two had obviously got bored and buggered off, so I shot round and was in the chair. Introduced to Ben Bosten, who sat there in a perfect three piece suit, bald head, with a striking blue mohican. Lovely guy, and I mean, seriously friendly. I said to him, ‘Pikachu, flying a helicopter down the gorge with the suspension bridge in the background’. Didn’t bat an eyelid. Explained all the technicalities. Then joined another bloody queue to get booked into the diary. So I can have the tattoo I want, but it won’t be done until the end of next August. Came back and did a shitload of sanding. Need to do a lot more tomorrow. Had a shower and then we went for an uninspiring Indian. Early night, much work tomorrow.