Obeying the rules

The end of last night is a bit blurry, as is what time it was when I got to bed. Still, despite the disappointing meal, we'd had a pleasant night in town -- all the more so because persuading Carl to brave the city-centre experience is rare indeed.

Gaining consciousness this morning took a while, I had a coffee, we watched a bit of telly, and it was after 2.00 pm by the time I headed for the DART. I got off at Pearse station (a bit of déjà vu from last night) and walked to Dawson Street (still further déjà vu) to look for a new book to read. I'd half decided to get one of Philippa Gregory's historical novels, but finally fell for the old-reliable 3-for-the-price-of-2 gimmick and came away with a weird collection of stuff: Bad Science, by Ben Goldacre; Jonathan Littell's The Kindly Ones (which may have been a mistake, judging from that long review); and Roberto Bolaño's 2666. As usual when I come home with a selection of books, the immediate difficulty is deciding which to read first. Right now, I've no idea which will win out (perhaps Bad Science, merely because it's the slimmest).

It was mid afternoon by the time I got back home, by which time the weather was busily transforming itself from and overcast to bright sun and blue sky. Unfortunately, both camera batteries were flat by then, so my blipping for the day had already been done. The choice shows that I'm very well behaved and rule-abiding when standing on a DART platform, with both feet neatly inside the yellow line at the edge of the platform.

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