Sunday. To sleep a little later than I'd have liked, but awoke thirty seconds before the alarm was due to go off at six-thirty and so up to take the blood pressure, which looked reasonably good, and then on to get up at the usual time to set out driving to breakfast, enter the restaurant to turn on the lights and settle in at my table with all three papers in hand this time.

The grilled beef patty, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee, finishing up to pick up the camera to take the usual leaving the table photograph to find I'd left the camera battery charging in the living room yesterday and the camera wouldn't fire. Ah, yes. The memory again. Home to sit down at the computer and start here.

Later. A brief walk over to the lake to take a series of pictures of a woman dancing to the drummers. I wasn't able to get the shot I wanted and should have been more aggressive in positioning myself to get what I was seeing, but these give you an idea.

Back to watch a French with subtitles detective movie. The names were just different enough and the characters numerous enough I was never really sure who was whom as the bodies built up (and the bodies did build up). Such is life in French with ever older ears.

Evening. Tired again with nothing I wanted to watch on television and so to bed before eight to again hunker down with the tablet, lights off after nine, not particularly worried I might now be able to get to sleep at a decent hour this night.