Later. A walk over to the lake with the long lens, spotting a heron and a pelican (or two) just over on the opposite shore. Not a long walk, so a walk around and over to take a couple of pictures. Robert Capa's advice to photographers unhappy with their work was to “get closer” seems to work with herons and pelicans too. The advantage with herons and pelicans is the lack of bombs and bullets, of course, one of which eventually zipped Mr. Capa in Vietnam. No need to flip the coin every time you go out and take a picture. An advantage from my perspective. Believe me.

Back to take a brief nap. No complaints, the day goes reasonably well, but no thoughts of, say, heading over to San Francisco to scout the America's Cup races or get in the car and do something radical like drive to Jack London Square and pick up more of those swell coat hangers I like so well at Bed, Bath & Beyonce.

You'd make a good church mouse.

You need to weigh more than your camera.

We're speaking metaphorically.

While swirling right down the drain.

Later still. A slow afternoon. No thought to go out for lunch, no thought to take a nap, but feeling at the edge of jittery without being jittery. Hmm. At least the head is clear and the attitude, well, in neutral, neither up nor down.

Evening Another new French series at six that I found interesting enough but not particularly engrossing, but you never know. At least there were no scenes of the hero wandering into a deserted warehouse filled with serial killers at midnight and finding himself in a pickle. We'll give it another week or so. Oh, and some guitar along with it.

Dalziel and Pasco put me off a bit - why do they always include a wacko superior making life idiotic, these things can be overdone - so I watched it for about fifteen minutes and then bailed, deciding it was time for a book in bed. We'll start all this again tomorrow if and when we awaken with the alarm.