Distracted?

I may have moved, but I'm back in my temporary office today, at Gutshot, the bar to be precise, where a £20 satellite is on a break. The sensible play is to keep away from the booze when you're in a game. But thankfully for profits this unwritten rule is largely ignored here, and the player who orders a mineral water is generally frowned upon as not getting with the programme.

So this is where I am for most of today, with another satellite tonight which will Christen the new card room in the building next door. Things are happy here, and I'm with the programme, albeit without the booze.

I just caught up with Derek, the boss (still not in prison), about work and cowboy boots. The boots will have to wait today, mainly as I spent too long talking about them. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow. He also thinks I'm distracted. "You're distracted a little bit, Stephen". I had to yell at him to get through. Yeah, I am distracted a little bit, only because life is pretty good at the moment. He's prying. That will keep him occupied for a bit.