SESSION shenanigans

Tis the Saturday before the Saturday before Christmas. The alarm goes off at 6am. I resist the temptation to throw the thing at the cat, Bill Murray/Groundhog Day style. Mainly because I no longer possess one. Sadly, Fenda passed on to the great gig in the sky some years ago. It’s cold, dark and wet. And not much better outside. I dress quickly if inaccurately, chuck a mug of organic, free trade, on-message caffeine at my face and stumble into the night. The saving grace is that