So after a full day of lectures, an hour and three quarters in the train another hour getting home (+ stopping of at the standard - The only place to get fish and chips!).
I walk through my front door.
The Brat confronts me as soon as I put my bag down.
"I'm so glad your home, fix the computer, its got like spyware or something."
Huh. Nice welcome.
So by 11pm, we'd established that there was 109 spyware problems on the computer.
I thought Sod this and went to bed.
I've just spent hours trying to fix it this morning.
---
Am very very glad that I didn't take STF up on his offer to ride in his car down to Essex and get a train from Guildford.
He was involved in a pile-up near Luton, which is gonna cost him £450 to repair and he's now back in Derby, unhurt thankfully.
---
So yesterday's little paranoia-fest got worse and worse as the day went on.
Didn't help by Mum ringing me up partway through the England match telling me about Dad's reaction to the drug he was getting pumped into him that day.
"He goes all red" she said. "And all hot and like he's gonna pass out. Took all day to do something that they reckon is only meant to be four hours."
He's fine now, picked me up from St Pancras and is just very tired, but he gets tired a lot these days now and is still in bed.
I'm gonna chuck my dirty washing in the washpile and start my I.S that I brought home.