1. This week's grapes are particularly good -- a little hard so they burst well, and then both sweet and sharp.
2. Before Nick comes up to bed, I read aloud the hot mess that is The Castle of Otranto. We are twenty pages in (including a long section we skipped, which seems to be assuring us that Horace Walpole isn't making this up because it's from a genuine found manuscript) and already someone has been crushed to death on his wedding day by a giant falling helmet; someone else has been falsely accused of black magic; and an isolated young woman is being pressured to marry her almost-father-in-law.
3. Nick and I read our horoscopes and the predictions for the nation in Old Moore's and then get our monthly telling off from one of the children for imagining that the movement of stars has any affect on our lives.
