There's something about driving a moped during rush hour in the pouring rain, when I'm already suffering from a stinking cold, that I just don't enjoy that much.
During the week I've managed to catch up with my schedule, mostly, so that I now have a reasonable draft synopsis for Fragile Monsters, the non-S.F. proposal (although it deploys some S.F. imagery in a non-realist kind of way). This weekend I once again have other things to do, but with luck I should be able to achieve a similar document for Ossian's Reach, one of the potential S.F. novels. Assuming that this cold lets go its ichory, tentacular grip on my brain.
I've also read some books, which I should possibly get round to talking about sometime soon. Or, possibly, not. The Prestige was good, though. Christopher Priest does have a bit of a thing about twins, doesn't he?
I'm still intending to write some more about the Cities I Want To Visit. I seem to have got rather distracted.
And I'm a little late with this, I realise, but I see they've found the earliest known piece of pornographic art.