My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody.

It's 10:35 and they've only just noticed I'm wearing my witch t-shirt. And I thought I was the fried one. I put it on when I was still feeling cute this morning, but I'm not feeling cute any more. Sleep deprivation has finally caught me and pummelled me. Bed! Bed! I didn't go to bed. Well, of course not. Not when seeing Richard E Grant belting out A Hymn to Him was in the offing. Oh yes. Quite possibly the most insane and reptilian Professor Henry Higgins ever to grace the stage, and I loved every minute of it.
( more: no tricks, no treats )