Woke up far too early this morning. Phone still hadn’t been ported. Got straight on to O2 yet again. Did all the standard bullshit, “Oh, it won’t be done now until Monday because systems don’t work weekends.” I did negotiate returning the damn phone at no cost and cancelling the contract so they could shove it up their ass. The guy reassured me that I should wait until Monday.

Walked the dogs. Came back and low and behold the original phone no longer had a service. Got hold of O2 again. Apparently the ‘concern team’ had got hold of it, contacted Tesco mobile and sorted the bloody thing out. After a reboot of the new phone all was good, everything worked. Wankers. Range captain James. Apparently he was in a clinic in California as his wife was ill. I let him get on with it. Booked into Heliflight next weekend with Stuart. Can’t fly with Candia as she will probably do my test.

Shot a new video, it’s all about motorway service stations.

Had toast. Headed out to sort of Seamills area. Parked up. Then spent the next five hours geocaching. I wanted to get ten, I think I got eight. Which means if I want to hit two hundred tomorrow I need to get fourteen, which is one hell of a challenge. Came back. Got pissed off with FCPX again for fucking up a data copy. It’s all sortable, but just a pain in the ass.

Made curry. Watched the football. England were crap. I hate football. Roll on the next game.