A great Saturday morning always starts with a couple of cups of coffee and breakfast for three. A great Saturday morning does not start with a text from your mother saying her fencing panels had arrived. Sarah text me for some help, it was pretty good actually, I think between the three of us we had the job done in under ten minutes, which meant we could be out of there in fifteen. Walked Sasha and then we were heading into town, but couldn’t be arsed so went to Cribb’s instead. Picked up a magic mouse for the iMac and Jamie got a touch pad for his. Came back and finally set up the new iMac, restored from backup, took ages so walked Sasha again. There was an ancient estate car which pulled into the RAC obviously lost, I called him over. English wasn’t his first language, in fact I don’t think English was his seventh language, I think he was Romanian, one thing for certain, his wife wasn’t a looker and had a gob on her like the PA at Glastonbury. I tried to ask him where we was going, eventually I got, ‘Sturminster Newton’, he had a fucking long way to go. I tried to explain how to get to the motorway, his wife was now at boiling point, eventually he just waved at me and fucked off. Half hour later I saw them again, still touring round the industrial estate. You just can’t help some people. Came back, iMac all installed. New one has both a mouse and a trackpad. Everything appears to work, I’ll start playing with it with some video editing tomorrow. Had a bath, watched the Grand Prix qualifier. Coverage was fine for Channel 4. Qualifying format was bloody appalling, what a car crash, without an actual car crash, put it back to what it was.