I don't mean to be mean, but

A whole day with him is such a trial.

Admittedly I would never have grubbed that bit of fence out on my own, I thought, but I mastered the bolt cutters and I got that last bit out so the jury should at least spend a little time on the question and possibly come down with a 'not proven' verdict.

The offspring recalled a rash promise made by one of us and so we went for an early screening of The Simpsons movie not long after a grotesquely large cooked breakfast. On the way out she decided the perfect way to round off a largely indolent day would be an indolent evening watching the current Bourne film which got the reviewers all hot under the collar and tipped the Bond/Bourne balance in favour of the latter despite Craig's tight trunks.

So I've now seen it. I'm not saying I followed it. Where did that young woman come from and why did she so abruptly switch sides and why didn't she pick up a gun and shoot that assassin and how did he get out of Tangier and to a viable identity and ... but our is not to question why, ours is to sit back and be dazzled.

I was chuffed to see Waterloo Station and environs - used to commute into there, years ago, then walk across the pedestrian bridge to catch a bus to the office, so I know the terrain well, or at least I once did before life ended up as it is, eking out a living at the arse end of England.

The twenty quid I won in the lottery this weekend doesn't enhance the escape fund by much.

Eh, bien.