Friday.
If everything keeps happening on a Friday, as it seems to be doing more often than not, then eventually we will hit a Friday 13th. That will set the cat among the pigeons, to those of a certain cast of mind. But that would entail my doing dates as well as days. Not going to happen.
Anyway. Marina came in as usual and, surprisingly, for the usual. Not even the pretence of the usual, but the actual usual usual. There is no pretence as good as the real. I was a little disappointed, I have to say. I had spent the hours between dawn and her arrival gearing up for a bit of skulduggery, a bit of espionage or subterfuge. I admit that my gearing up had only gone so far as to come up with these three words, but the effort was there, even if the knowledge was not. No, even given my involvem
