More round and round in circles in Risborough. Twice S's mind just totally blanks out, and the second time I just can think of no way forward. At this rate I can seriously see the thirty hours being up and us not reaching a real road. I scrap the last hour and suggest relaxing the intensity and taking things into next week. S agrees. I will be regretting this next week, that's for sure.
M is next up and he seems to be on speed, tearing far too fast wherever he goes. Unusual.
A has rung up to cancel, he's ill so I have a lazy afternoon watching the cricket. But the weather has turned and it's an on off affair, which terminates an over before the game can be deemed to have concluded. It's cloudy, so we miss one of the year's longest nights. Wimbledon's around the corner, and the horizon is bright until nearly ten.How depressing then, that the nights start to recede in less than a week.
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