A telephone conversation this evening with a doctor about my testicles as one of which had been giving me a bit of gyp. The doctor arranged for me to see a, um, hands on doctor tomorrow.
Otherwise same old same old. A walk while now listening to lectures about Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, and worked on my short story, which is one of those things that always seems about to be finished. This evening I cooked a highly unorthodox fish and butternut squash curry, but more by luck than judgement it turned out oddly okay -- Lorraine, having worked late, ate it while watching Death in Paradise.