Friday. Awoke with the alarm after a somewhat uneven, but decent length, night's rest to get up and get ready to head out for breakfast, the air cold without being too cold and with no signs of rain, arriving to find the restaurant open with people inside. Settled in with the papers, the schedule for the day and the week, for that matter, clear.

The two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast, finishing up not long before nine to set out for home, passing by an electric motor scooter someone had pushed over on its side that hadn't been there when I was walking in. Another of whatever flower this is in the planters not far beyond, a bicycle rider at the 580 Overpass light and then home to take the selfie, no sign of scooters lined up along the lake. Hadn't seen any walking in earlier either.

Yesterday's entry was at many points incomprehensible when I opened it and so expended extra effort trying to straighten it out before posting. I could say the same every morning.

As you do.

Well, who knows how this aging business goes? Procrastination, feeling pooped half the time, blame it on age rather than self?

Later. Time on the tablet, the usual television news, throw in a bath and that's been the afternoon.

Evening. To bed just after seven to get up and watch the beginning of Inspector Morse for some reason, actually watching quite a bit of it before giving up and heading back to bed before nine. Listened to the BBC News until nine-thirty, as I usually do, and then radio off and lights out.