I'm moving. Literally. Not as in I have a velocity which when multiplied by my mass gives my momentum, but as in my possessions are in transit. Or on transit, in this case, the vehicle in question being my brother's flatbed truck.

So my schedule is this.

Wednesday. Move. Teach for a couple of hours. Don't play chess. Rush to be done in time to watch Champions League final.

Thursday. Two classes, both in the same place but annoyingly separated in time. Arrange my possessions pleasingly, or at least turn them all the right way up. Write about final, if moved to.

Friday. Wave brother and sister off to Greece, try not to trash their house for the next six months.

Saturday. Go to Wembley, watch City beat Hull and get promoted.

Not a lot of writing time, I'm afraid. I'll write about City though.

Click on this link at 5:30 on Saturday, to know if I'm happy or sad.

BBC Interviewer to Gary Johnson: And now you're ninety minutes away from playing Ronaldo. Johnson: Yes, that's if we don't buy him. That's what we've needed, a manager with chutzpah. And look how far it gets you.