It will be August in the morning

October nears its end. It's been a nice month, weather-wise, until this last week when the six-degrees-and-rain syndrome kicked in.
Halloween tomorrow. Spurs away to Man. Utd in a couple of hours. Time to put this particular bogey to rest. As long as the ref doesn't suffer temporary blindness in the case of any obvious Tottenham goals/penalty shouts as has happened in recent years.
Winter wheels on the car - it's gonna be a cold one apparently. I think it's probably for the best if I buy myself a nice pair of new boots, eh?
Right, footy soon. Beer now. Ah...

I think it's special

...what's behind your back

Mmmmmmm.

You know I dreamed about you

...for twenty-nine years before I saw you

October.
I don't do ill, which makes my current state of health a little irritating. Last week's gut-rot has given way to sincere lethargy and a feeling of all-over achiness. Bleh.
A tremendous last week for the mighty Spurs. First home-win ever in the Champions League followed by a "battling" home win in the (regular-flavoured) League against Villa. The boy Van der Vaart playing starring roles in both matches.
Dear Diary, I can't be assed to write any more tonight so I'm going to bed. Perchance to dream, assuming I can actually get any napper.