Feasted on Thai food with Patsington in our local fancy Thai restaurant, which has greatly improved since we last dined there, just after it opened. Mmmmmmm, pad thai!
Feasted on my own crappy-in-comparison home-made food, which made me wish I was rich enough (and had a speedy enough metabolism) to eat out every night of the week.
Watched an extremely scary episode of Dr Who. God, I hate anything with creepy children in it, and that was a very, very creepy gasmasked child. "Mummy, I'm scared of the bombs......" Urrrrgh.
Bought a Moleskine notebook. So lovely! Such satiny pages! I also bought a music paper one for Patsington, so he can write down his profound Cornelius Cardew-esque compositions.
Lolled about the sitting room with Patsington, me reading The Deeds of the Disturber, he reading about plinky-plonks, listening to Rimsky-Korsakov (to whose Capriccio Espagnol I used to prance about as a small child. I was nerdishly obsessed with R-K).
Watched in horror as Patsington's father, who had turned up to administer ant-killing stuff which he had bought off the internet because it is not available to non-professional exterminators in this country (PROBABLY FOR A VERY GOOD REASON, but not a reason that would deter the well-meaning DIY loon), cleaned ant-killing powder off a corner of the kitchen floor WITH OUR WASHING-UP BRUSH. When he started scrubbing away I said "um, that's our washing up brush - that we use on the dishes..." but he said "ah, it'll be fine with a bit of hot water." He followed this up by polishing the floor with the fancy dish cloth that we use to wipe the counter. HE IS MAD. I mean, I'm very fond of him, but he is. I have thrown both utensils away now, and am a little bit peeved.