Swedish bleak

Under Lorraine's supervision attached brackets to the new bookcases. This allowed me to spend a couple of happy hours moving books about, and generally rationalising my office space. There is more work to be done, but things are much tidier and more organised than they were.

Reading Richard's poems again this afternoon. I love his work, the poems are really true to who he is, and they ring with emotional honesty. You can't fake that kind of stuff.

Lorraine out for a few hours seeing her pals Andrew and Rachel, and their daughters. Watched the last five minutes of Andy Murray, the first British tennis player to get to the men's finals in my lifetime. He lost. He cried afterwards and Brits took him to their hearts, for we love a plucky loser as much if not better better than we love our winners.

After we ate a large vegetable chilli, Lorraine and I watched the English language version of Wallander with Kenneth Branagh. Bleak's the word, and Branagh plays the character as someone on the edge of complete breakdown.

Comments