Since what had happened in the woods a few days previously, the guys were all a bit embarrassed. After all I was officially just the groundsman and they were the players and there wasn't a problem really as nothing had happened.
OK it might have done and some said I was asking for it but it was end of season and a hot day in May.
I was so looking forward to a good night's sleep. I'd put in an extra four hours' overtime to help catch up on that fuck-off great pile of testing that was due to be reported on Monday, and was feeling pretty drained. Whilst there wasn't exactly a lot of heavy lifting to be done in the lab, I did spend nearly all of my time on my feet. It was just as well that I only had a short walk back to my flat at the end of it - and, after a quick microwave dinner and a relaxing shower, I was ready to drift away into the arms of Morpheus.
There's a standard joke when the UK is hit with cold weather - that we're utterly unable to cope. Even a sprinkling of the white stuff brings the road and rail networks virtually crashing to a halt. Schools close, people can't get to work, supermarkets are swamped by panic buyers and tabloids declare 'SNOWMAGEDDON!'