I've always had a thing for Breton stripes, and they're very much 'in' this year, so I've been stocking up on T-shirts despite R Next Door's despair at fat people wearing horozontal stripes. Hey, at least I get long sleeves, if possible, so that the world won't be horrified by the swathes of loose crinkly flesh on my shrunken old arms.
My left shoulder is more painful than it's ever been; can barely move at all, even with Tramadol. Managed to bleach my head bristles, though.
Watched a travelogue about St Petersburg on TV the other night, and now I'm longing to go again, before my money is entirely gone, which will be soon, so it will surely be my last 'big' trip. I wish I could get a travelling companion, though.
Latest book on the go is yet another biog on a golden age theatrical, Ralph Richardson.