The smell of effort

First of March. Working well on the book this morning. Spoke to Pat about Andy, he is going to go to Andy's funeral in Truro Friday week. I decided I wanted to, and fortuitously, the work I was going to be doing in London with my pal Keith has been bumped for a week, so I booked a flybe ticket to Newquay on the same flight as Pat, another pal Barney will be coming too. Feel happy this is all decided.

To the gym late in the afternoon. Only after I was on the cross trainer did I realise that my little towel, unused for some weeks, smelled foul with damp. Felt somewhat self conscious about this, especially as the place was unusually full of students. Accidentally wiped sweat off my face with it at one point, which was a schoolboy error. Walked home, then more work, before breaking off to cook. And welcome Mrs Kenny back into the fold.