Sherlock is getting excited about his double birthday celebrations. The actual birthday non-celebrations are becoming more celebratory. There is definitely cake. And he wants an outing, of some sort. We might go to a museum or gallery or something. And he wants dinner or lunch out. And then he wants all that again, but moreso, when Mycroft is here.
Why not, eh?
Work is busy. Some of you may be following some of our bigger cases. Not that it's exactly my team, but big investigations - especially multi-national ones, often need to take officers from other teams to help. And rightly so.
There's a severe amount of demoralisation in the force at the moment. I've heard a few officers - quite senior, some of them, talking about leaving. Good people. The sort you need to keep. It's a worry, I'll be honest, and it leads other people to think about it all, too.
Anyway, have a happier picture. This is us training for our run. Okay, I lie. It's just John training.
|This is the picture in the dictionary under 'gambolling'|
And here's one of those odd beans we're growing. Beautifully modelled by Mrs H.
Sadly they don't taste as exciting as they look. But then how could they?
Mycroft has joined the shooting club at school. He now spends one evening a week blasting bits of clay out of the sky. He's enjoying it - very enthusiastic. Well, as enthusiastic as a laid-back teenager can be. Which is to say he's said he's 'enjoying' it. Sherlock is consumed with jealousy.
Maf is trying to lick my face.