John and Sherlock have been working on the allotment today. John's feeling mainly better, glad to say.
Sherlock is annoyed he wasn't allowed to bring home any worms, and that John didn't have a spare apple tree about his person to plant.
We've got a shooting to sort out - one with over 100 witnesses, none of whom want to talk to us. So that's always helpful. I'm sure we'll get there eventually, but...it's a frustrating job. And we're still working on a murder/suicide too, which is also frustrating. And prepping a few cases for court, trying to get warrants, the usual. Too much reading when my body's trying to rebel against me. But better than running around, I suppose.
And tomorrow is the marathon, so...well, who knows what'll happen? We know there will be people who get distracted and forget their bags, and we know that people will be more vigilant than usual, so we fully expect at least some chaos. It seems...I don't know, there's a big generational split, isn't there, regarding who is seen as a threat, and how we react. It's taken a long time for me to stop expecting the coded phonecalls - in fact, that's a lie. I still expect them. Hard to remember the kids coming up through the ranks today don't know what it's like, hearing one's come in, chucking yourself in the nearest panda car and driving as fast as you can to where you know, for sure, there's a bomb.
Jo got in touch today. Most of you will probably have seen John's blog. Apparently Bryan's got a show in a gallery. And two of the pictures are of me. As John would say 'So that's a thing that's happened'. Or maybe he'd say 'which has happened'...
I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. I want to feel nothing.