After yesterday's "throwing everything into the skip", which included the office furniture, I had worried that I'd have nowhere to work, but was saved from a day of sitting on the floor by the presence and hasty re-assembly of the dining table, which provided ample location for late-night-post-skip-filling curry.
So my morning commute was actually 2 feet. That not a figure of speech, it's a fairly accurate approximation, yet it took me an age to get into my chair.
I'll admit it. I worked for much of the day in my jimjams.
However, it wasn't the late start which somewhat spoiled the day, it was the doorbell ringing and a neighbour telling me that my skip was on fire. I went out to discover smoke rising from one of the bags. Had I been throwing out bombs? Incendiary devices? Chemicals that spontaneously combust?
More likely, someone had tossed a fag end into the skip.
I rushed into action - my buckets now also in the skip and out of action - and emptied 3 cafetieres of water on the offending bag, which I then removed from the skip to smoulder away from the rest of the now-promoted-to-tinder skip-contents.
Later skip news involved finding a couple of men scavenging in the skip as I went to lunch. They seemed unashamed. Really.
The only reason I was staying in Newcastle today was to do a day's work before coming home. Had I had a van, it would also have been to pack everything up before bringing it. This didn't prove necessary.
In the end, I had a long 5-hour drive home, which I did without stopping, passing go or collecting 200 pounds. Dull.
So the day ended with me tired, after starting with the skip on fire. Rock and roll!