The gas man cometh

...at eight in the morning, turfed me out of bed, turfed my bed out of the room, took up the floor boards, shone lights through, had a fight with a shouty man in the street, realised that there was a two metre concrete wall to be drilled through to do what needed to be done, shook head gravely, spoke to chiller on the phone, put back the floorboards and my bed, and went away again. All before eleven.

You'd think, wouldn't you, you'd think that given that today I have to do ALL THE PHD WORK IN THE WORLD, I'd take advantage of the turfing out of bed, get an early start and crack on. Not so; I am still in my pyjamas and haven't even had a cup of tea yet. I have admittedly scanned some job adverts and started organising a friend's hen do - progress, progress - but not a stroke of work. Still, no one actually does anything before 12pm do they, really?

Right. Working now, VERY VERY HARD.