Wifey was busily unpicking some knitting last night at ten to ten- she'd drop a row or some other such technical thing that she did explain to me but I utterly failed to understand twice, so just pretended to on the 3rd attempt, lest the knitting needle become a weapon of retribution against me.
And I was busy utterly failing to read the latest book club book. I manfully struggled through The Piano Teacher last month, which came with a recommendation from Elle magazine on the cover (the SHAME!), so thought this months would be better. It's a detective story, which in theory should be more up my street but is proving troublesome. Maybe it's because I have to read it rather than because I want to. I'm perverse like that.
But maybe it was also because my concentration span is stuffed at the moment. I was up at 6am for a business breakfast- worth it in the end as I won two tickets to England/Egypt.
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