Alone

Or is he? See extra. The man was oblivious to my presence but the cat was not.

The sunny weather disappeared sometime this morning. By the time I got to the city for my theatre date with two friends it was bucketing down. I had an umbrella but was otherwise underdressed so I was cold and uncomfortable. Then there was the rarely performed two hours and 20 minutes long play: The President, by Austrian playwright Thomas Bernhard, who likes to explore death, injustice, misery and other generally pessimistic themes. If you get a chance to avoid seeing this play, do. Hugo Weaving in the lead does not save it.

Being in dry clothes and a warm bed feels particularly good. 

Enjoy the rest of the weekend. I will try to do likewise.