This week seemed to accelerate after Tuesday and I don't know why (actually I do; I did an interview on Wednesday about Slutwalk and feminism which took over my brain with worry about sounding stupid and Simone de Beauvoir coming back from the dead just to bitch-slap me, then got a bit drunk on Thursday with my darling friend who has free afternoons, from which I took far too long to recover, and spent Friday struggling with some of my regrettable aspects and feeling a bit blue). Today has been largely spent in bed but I've been too busy reading everyone else's blogs - some great stuff this weekend - to write anything myself, and we have to go to bed soon because Vincent is getting up to watch the Crusaders game at three and we both have to be somewhere at eight-thirty (on a Sunday!).
This is very poor blogging behaviour, but you will forgive me. I know this, because I will do some proper writing tomorrow after we come home from my excellent little niece's piano recital, and because I am giving you this to listen to: one of the greatest songs, ever, for which there is always time.