I have been putting it off for weeks.
There comes a time though when important things just have to be done, and that time has arrived.
Against all my better judgments and instincts I have to go into Skobieville for the afternoon.
Will I survive the trip into that underbelly of society?
The odds improved slightly since yesterday when I trimmed the old beard. I now look like Harold Shipman again, which tends to deter the worst of the beggars and muggers.
If I don't ever return then, as Dave Allen used to say – may your gods go with you.
In the meantime, talk amongst yourselves.