Nil

Today featured a big bunch of nothing, or at least a big bunch of nothing interesting. I did plenty of useful stuff – took my suit to the drycleaners, bought some socks at Kmart, went to the hardware store to buy a new jigsaw blade – but that’s not what people want to read in blogs, or at least not what people want to read in this one. The only way that any of that would be of interest is if I bumped into Ursula Andress at the drycleaners, or if I discovered a range of socks patterned with little Tom Servos.


Both of which would have been way cool. But, sadly, they didn’t actually happen.


But it isn’t that sort of holiday. The best and most representative moment of the day occurred a little after 4pm, when I was curled up on a couch in a smart café, with a flat white and a caramel slice, reading the New Yorker, and just luxuriating in the fact that I had nowhere to be and nothing to do.


It was so comfortable and relaxing. Plus I learned a whole bunch from the New Yorker about Moldovan sex trafficking, so it was fun and educational!