The day after John Grant. He'll be weary. Edinburgh to London... Crikey.

Today: Cold cold cold afternoon walk to the park by the racecourse. Sunset over Arthur's Seat in the distance and the reflections in the river were rather pleasing.

Really chilly.

I spent last week persuading the little little one into a cosy coat on the grounds it would probably be bad parenting to allow the choice thing to extend to creating the conditions in which pneumonia can flourish.

I won. Yesssss.

She was well toasty. I, on the other hand, wearing a trendy, but thin, jacket, was not.

I am a chump.

Anyway, anyone else watching that spooky drama with Michael Palin? I know HPW is. I don't like ghost stories. I don't know why I'm sitting through it. I blame Mr M. He's keen. It's like The Woman in Black all over again... I'll never sleep... I pretended to read the paper and stuck my fingers in my ears when it all got too much.