Sunday Blithering

God it's cold in London. Mind you, was cold in Winchester too, but there was a big log fire there. Half of me is wishing I'd booked this week out as well, the other half is thinking I really need to bill every penny I can right now. In any event, a couple of months ago, when a trial set down for a day against a LoonyLitigant in Person unsurprisingly went over, and the judge asked me for dates to avoid for the return, I really didn't imagine I needed to state that I'd rather not be in court the day before Christmas Eve. Foolish, foolish. The mills of the law grind exceedingly small. Or something.

I'm supposed to be writing up some tedious minutes (juniormost tenants always get the fun jobs) but Miss Marple is on, and while I'm not convinced Agatha Christie would really recognise it, it's highly entertaining. Intrigiung speculations about her losing a man in WWI (I don't think that has any canonical foundation). Stephen Tomkinson a more convincing dumb inspector than Jack Davenport, incidentally.