I am in Italy and there is sunshine, plus O.'s estate is much different from last time. The Dr is delighted at my gaping absence as she can melt in peace at tonight's Jane Eyre finale.
Would feel a bit brighter if I hadn't been up at five this morning. And if I'd not gone to bed at one last night. But Falldog was getting hitched and we got to see all sorts of chums we've not seen in ages.
That Paul Cornell was looking very dapper - and again apologised profusedly for coming dressed like a farmhand to ours. Glitterforbrains advised me on dancing ("Don't try so hard, love,") and I got to ask Gary Russell, "How in heck did you manage?"
The groom and groom made some mention that theirs was "not really a wedding". But of course it is. It has to be.
Because of who it annoys when it is.