I finally finished Peter Ackroyd's little biography of Turner, which has been lying around, 3/4 read, for the best part of a year. Dunno why, but It just didn't interest me much. I got a very strong impression that it was a potboiler for Mr Ackroyd. Anyway, I've pulled BRING UP THE BODIES out of the 'to read' pile, and doubt if I'll have the same problem.
Watched the finale of THE DECEIVED which was a bit of a turkey. I'd solved the case pretty early on.
I took the recycling down about three, thinking maybe I could manage a workout, but it was tourture just crossing the road for some crisps. So very, very hot and horrible. I can remember as a kid the asphalt on the roads used to bubble up in summer, so it must have been even hotter then, but it bloody feels worse to me now.
I have a bloody feckin' hospital appointment tomorrow, too. Thank gods it's at nearby St Thomas'. It's the cataract clinic, though, which is extra stressful.
Hope I don't faint.