My wife's nephew is getting married tomorrow, and this morning she and our children got on the train to Glasgow.
I love the city, weddings, and the lad and his wife-to-be, but I've been having a particularly debilitating rhuematological episode so I'm left in north London with only the cat and snake for company.
I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself, no doubt exacerbated by the Budvar Mrs P was kind enough to lay in.
After finishing the new Fred Vargas I moved onto season three of The Sopranos from my birthday box set. Episode one has a mash up of Every Breath You Take and Peter Gunn, which made me smile.
And Peter Gunn is one of the few somgs I've mastered on my son's guitar.
Best bit so far of a miserable and painful day, though the cat litter needs changing and a mouse needs defrosting, so there's hope yet.