Naked pizza eating, not much else.
No run. Instead I went out for a stroll along the Headrow, past the glorious Victorian Town Hall and round the back of the Crown Court, where one of my favourite Leeds pubs can be found. The Victoria is one of the greatest pubs on the face of the earth. A classic Victorian boozer, built as a hotel to service the circuit judges and their flunkies. All the usual brass and mirrors and etched windows, and a polished mahogany island bar. Around the walls are snugs with thick velvet curtains. You wonder what intrigue must have been hatched within these walls over the last 140 years. Adultery, murder, bank robberies, you name it. And a good few post-acquittal celebrations I should think.
Just a couple of pints of Tetley’s to ensure that the quality hadn’t slipped since last week. On the way back to the hotel I bought a pizza the size of a dustbin lid. Back in the hotel room, I take all my clothes off, lay on the bed with my pizza and watch BBC News 24. Yep, that’s the kind of guy I am. That is what having a good time means if you’re a 47 year old man.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
