Killing jobs

A lazy morning. I shouldn't be lazy at this time, with the quarterly magazine due to dump its stuff on me with yet another unreasonable distribution deadline, but the client is way behind in terms of passing on material, and there's nothing I can do to speed things up.

After a bit of house work and a bite of lunch I headed in to town, principally to get something new to read. I did my usual and combined the shopping trip with a bit of a walk. It was chilly enough along Grafton Street and around Stephen's Green, but I was well wrapped up and wasn't too badly affected. Despite its being the start of the first week after the IMF/EU mandarins took over the country, things were happening just as usual, the (rather pathetic) Christmas lights were on, and the streets weren't exactly deserted. This oversized banner was the only evidence of protest against the times.

I opted for an omnibus edition of detective stories by an author I've never heard of (James Anderson), whose protagonist is an Inspector Wilkins, who conveys the impression of being a bit of a bumbling yokel but is, naturally, really very astute. Should be light and fluffy and undemanding, which is just what I need right now.