Oh, of course, didn’t you know? I ride the Underground to Piccadilly Circus every afternoon, where I stop for a spot to eat, fish and chips of course, and then I wipe my hands on a serviette, put on my trainers, and chase after the posty driving away in his lorry. I then head to the Offy, pick up a pint to bring back to my flat (blimey, the lift is out again) and have with crisps for afters. On Thursdays the chemist stops by with my order, which is free from NHS.
On certain days the London fog turns into rain and then I can’t go for my run because it is hard to do with a mackintosh and brolly.
On Sundays, if there is no tailback on the roads I might head out to my seaside bungalow, with a picnic hamper in the boot.
Cheerio, old chum!