Barking

The dog in the habit of, well, barking. Only problem is that he does so whenever let into the back-yard and, worse, the front when we go running often at 6AM.  The neighbours hate us (Sonnet hates Rusty).  A dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do.

Madeleine to receive her exam marks and is unusually quiescent on the upper deck of the 337.  I hold her hand part of the way (until someone she knows enters the bus); it is a quiet journey.

Sonnet and I to the Emanuel hill form drinks in Clapham.  I spend thirty minutes talking to Lillian, with slight moustache, unable to make chitter-chatter.  Sonnet informs me later that Lillian is deconstructing the human genome with a particular focus on understanding the DNA sequencing of lupus.  Probably a good thing we did not reach this topic. She also rides a motorcycle.