I got hired but I got tired of draining the pool for you.

Last night's Glasgow set list includes, I note, the haunting Draining the Pool For You. The Holy Trinity has just become a Fantastic Four. I must phone S to finalise travel arrangements for Friday evening.

I am, as the week progresses, becoming more and more excited about Gloucester's battle against Saracens on Saturday that will confirm the winner's place in next season's Heineken Cup. I can kid myself ad nauseum that I'm not really bothered which competition Gloucester play in. I can come over all high and mighty and pronounce that on current form, the city don't really deserve to dine at the top table of European football. However, the bottom line remains that I love this noble club and want them to win at Twickenham for the sake of pride and, frankly, to be where we belong next term. Come on Gloucester.

The messageboards remain full of spite and nastiness after the club ditched its plans to build a new grandstand in the summer a few weeks after that Walkinshaw fellow, dressed in what looked like a bin liner, passionately announced its arrival in front of an adoring (forgiving? stupid?) popular enclosure. Essentially I can't raise too much displeasure. I'd rather play to a packed 13,000 for a season, rebuild on the pitch after a blissful recruitment campaign for new uberstars and continue to enjoy my rugby football. Having been attending games since 1978 my philosophy of GRFC supporting is well-honed: enter ground, meet friends, laugh, chat, cheer on team, have a pint, go home. It's amazing how well that works. Despairing about unbuilt viewing areas is ne'er on the agenda.