So, I finally did the laundry, then mooched around Clapham Junction for a bit, managing not to get rained on. Otherwise, I've been in bed, mostly, trying to keep warm. Why, oh why did I open that bloody window? and why does the wind always blast in that direction?
I was not impressed with the US version of THE KILLING. The people just don't seem as characterful, but we'll see. I was gobsmacked by the size of the teenage working-class victim's bedroom, though; bigger than my sitting room.