I don't know where weekends go. They disappear, and so much that should have been done, was planned to be done, doesn't seem to get done. There's hotels to book for the summer holiday. Flights to book for various things in April. Various organisations I have pledged to support. Email catch ups to be completed. Still lots of decluttering to be undertaken. Friends to see, meals to be eaten, drinks to be enjoyed. New broadband suppliers to be sorted. Only a small proportion of what was planned or committed gets done, or at least not finalised, every weekend. I won't specify what managed to rise to the surface of my attention this weekend. But the general principle applies. Weekends appear to be just too short. There should be a law against it.

One of the last of the proper winter sunrises. You can see that the sun is moving around behind the building opposite for its point of rising.

Later on we went to E's 40th birthday party in Stockbridge, and picked up some jam at the market. That was fun (the party, not the jam). The 36 bus rocks. I may have said this before.