Saturday (is waning fast)

Forgot to mention that each time I go into Bath I have vague notions of going clothes-shopping. They never come to anything, so I'm still dressed like a peasant. Could be worse, of course - by the simple application of the letter h, for a start.

And that I'm hoping to get over 500 miles from the current tank of petrol. Which is pleasing, though of course rather expected given all the out-of-town driving we've been doing.

I've spent the last hour or two removing several hundred miles' worth of dirt from the car*. Should've taken 'before' and 'after' photos, it's a joy to behold. I could still take 'after' photos if the camera starts cooperating.

So, nothing of interest to report.

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It's good to know the FT's people are in touch with all sections of society:

Look at the Christmas and birthday wish lists of girls everywhere, and there at the top: Prada shoes, Vuitton bag.

Yes, they're doing a roaring trade in war-and-famine-ravaged Africa, not to mention British council estates, aren't they.

Idiot.

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*An act of such suburban banality that it's been featured as an example of such on TV. Well, not me washing the car, but the washing of cars in our street...