twenty-five miles from closure

Not the best day.

The morning was OK. A nice sit-about reading newspapers and books, some really nice coffee which I hope I can find again though I didn't pay much attention to the packet and put it in the bin, lots of chunky toast and the odd mini-egg or two.

The early afternoon was OK. Ironed some shirts and took them into work to prevent ironing/flapping in the mornings next week. Wandered about for a bit in the nice daylight and thought for the third time in as many days that it's getting almost bright enough for sunglasses again.

The late afternoon was very pleasant. Located Nicky at the shops though she did spot me reflected in a shop door after a mere twenty seconds' pretend-stalking when I was trying to ring her to see if I could do some Bourne Ultimatum-style real-time telephonic misdirection and evasion. Pottered round some shops and got some paper samples for invites. It went downhill slightly when Milnes of Rose Street FAILED at pie-provision, perhaps their only notable ability. Whereas their pies past were bowl-based with a lump of pastry on top this was an obviously mass-produced microwaveable generic-pie which was COLD IN THE MIDDLE; we did think at the time that it had arrived rather quickly. They took their time about replacing it during which time the table immediately adjacent to ours was occupied by a large bunch of giggling children who eyed our space hungrily and evidently coveted the extra elbow-room it would provide them. Irritating but nothing to cloud the day.

The early evening was nice. Marvelled at the weird greenish light playing on the sugar-cube-like micro-cobbles in boxes around Charlotte Square. Finally caught one of the many camera-toting people around today who will provide suitable distraction and disguise over the coming tourist-heavy months. Saw a pleasant film and caught the blokey above on the way back home and again completely failed to get harassed by station staff or British Transport Polices for using a camera in a manner likely to cause explosions.

We'd been home for about ten minutes when it went a little downhill. A friend's sister was having issues with her brother's wife. Four hours and a drive to Little France and back later everything seemed to be temporarily resolved but there are nicer ways to round off a weekend than stinking of passive fagsmoke wishing that someone we've bothered to try and help would at least stop acting and be honest with us and worrying that one day the attention-seeking might develop into crying wolf as the available time remaining for sleep before Monday morning edges beneath the two-hour mark.