Gutted

Having just watched the highlights of my adored Marat Safin demolishing the upstart Djokovic, I'm completely gutted that I didn't force my lazy, hung-over (from a few too many post-last-German-class beers) butt out of bed at the crack of dawn to join my friend Romany in SW19 today.

I can now officially declare this the Week of Being Gutted: I was offered tickets for both Sigur Ros AND Radiohead last night and had to pass. Tonight Bruce is playing the legendary San Siro stadium in Milan, and again I was offered a ticket, but evil British Airways placed a £250 plane fare between me and my 21 friends who are going. I could have been toasting in the Milan afa, and spending a week being pampered by my family in boiling Bologna, but alas 'twas not to be. And to round it all up I risked going to a Bon Jovi gig on Friday but (fortunately, one might say) I can't go, due to prior commitments in Kent.

We are all in the gutter, but some of us (who frankly, should be in Frankfurt-am-Main for such an event) are now watching Germany - Turkey in London, where it's not even proper summer yet.