It has not been a bad Bank Holiday weekend
I drank Bovril, ate pies and watched minor league football. I may never return to the Premiership.
I painted the room which will become my office. Which brings me, barring flooring and cabling, a great step closer to having an orderly workspace.
I pumped myself, vigorously, in the gym. A considerable improvement on the phoned-in sessions I've been doing of late.
I slept, an adequate amount. Which was wonderful.
I resolved the hitherto intractable plot difficulties which have been dogging my opening 10 pages.
Simple pleasures, but pleasures none the less.
