Not getting up

I'm not getting up. That Eurovision service took too much out of me last night. And this bed's lovely and warm. And the sun light is so bright.

I've already skipped the 7am "Pouring out of Beakers". Hnaef's keen. He'll have done that.

I know I have to take the 9am celebration of the Papal Bull "Ad Extirpanda". But that was a mistake. We set it up thinking it was all about pandas and wildlife preservation - not about the correct ways to torture heretics.

And then there's the 10.30 prayer meeting for "Little Pebbles". I know Hnaef hates the name. But I'm going to keep pushing it. And again, Hnaef is very keen so I'm sure he's going to do that.

And I was asked to go along and show my face at the "cake service" for the Guinea Pig Folk of Stewartby at lunch time. I know they're heretics and weird, and I know that I won't understand a word of the service, because it's entirely conducted in beeps and burps and whistles. But there's cake. I mean, it's ecumenical. So I reckon I'll just about be able to drag myself out for that.