Oh oh the night comes down, And I get afraid of losing my way

Well, we have both recovered from the run.

John did it in 02:15:01, I did it in 02:15:36. He could have gone faster, but he stayed with me until right at the end, when I told him I'd be forced to feel up his arse all the way to the line if he didn't run. Or...I might've thought that, and just panted something like 'Go! Go!' and waved a floppy arm at him.

Anyway, yeah, we did it! And we're quite proud. Sherlock, the girls, the baby, and Mrs H did us proud - I think they probably ran almost as much as we did, charging around the course to see us!

But yeah, it really wasn't too bad, and we might well do something else - or another half marathon. I'll admit a full marathon is still rather daunting...


Here's a video Sherlock said you should all see. And he's right. It's lovely. I think Mycroft sent it to him.

If I could only, I could only fly, I'd drift with them in endless space

So I've obviously bored everyone to death by moping about feeling sorry for myself for being here, and o counteract that, there's been a concerted effort in my inbox today to cheer me up.

Sherlock sent me a picture of John asleep in bed (John probably doesn't know that yet) with Maf wrapped around his head so her tail looks like he's grown an unfortunate beard.

Or maybe he's grown an unfortunate beard.

Then Jo sent me this, of Tadhg.

One day to come together, To release the pressure

I've been right down in the dumps recently. I don't know how John manages to go from dealing with me to dealing with Sherlock without it sending him around the twist.

Canoeing was great, the kids got really stuck in, no one was too scared/didn't want to do it etc. and they all enjoyed every minute of it. Lots of them wanted to go again, soon. Even thought it was on the river, the current was very gentle, but you could tell we were coming back faster than we paddled out! Only a few people needed rescuing when they got caught up on river bank weeds or went the wrong way around and panicked.

In other news that ought to have me happier than it seems to have managed, the guy from the other week went down for fifteen years. So...well, it never seems enough, frankly. But there we go.

So... apparently the kids are planning a holiday for us - our kids and Nicky's. Emails have been sent back and forth, text messages have been buzzing. At some point I imagine we'll be told what to pay for... it will doubtless be the craziest holiday ever. We old folk will just be along for the ride.

I'm off for the next two days, which will ben nice, and very welcome. John and I need to get going on some running, if we're going to manage this half marathon.

It's only forever, Not long at all, Lost and lonely

Nine years ago today, 52 people were killed on public transport in London. 700 were injured. Doesn't seem real it's nine years ago, feels like...months, maybe. Sometimes far far less.

And, as with all such happenings, as people ran, shocked, injured, horrified, other people went to help. Tube staff, police, bystanders. Some people who were down in those tunnels, injured themselves, didn't run, didn't leave, even though they could. They stayed and they saved lives.

I was at work, not one of the first responders, but once it became clear the scale of what had happened, teams were dispatched.

I worked on the Piccadilly, where the most people died. It was a long, painstaking investigation, with pressure to both explain who had been responsible, how they had done it, why they had done it, and also - and it is important, no matter how mundane it sounds - to get the transport system back working. And to allow the friends and families of the dead to mourn and move on. And that's hard, when the damage to the bodies is so vast. You don't get to see a body, have a final moment, say a proper goodbye.


Anyway, been thinking about that a lot today, as I've spent the day with John, and waved Mycroft off to work, and thought about a lot of things.

And now I've been writing this for bloody ages and still not written anything. I don't think I'm 100% back to normal. Or maybe I'm just examining everything I do too closely now. I feel like I keep sort of...zoning out. Or forgetting what I was doing/saying.

On Saturday, we were...well, I still can't say too much, but I'd been in communication with this man. On a Gay Sex Chatline. Because that had been the one link in a series of cases.

We expected him to try and talk me into going back to his. We didn't expect him to slip a drug in my drink. Or...well, I still don't know how he did it.

Luckily I had a wire on, and there were other officers in the club. So when I stopped talking, Sal could call up someone to get a bit closer, check up on me, and they knew something was up.

Ketamine, when you take enough, paralyses you. Your mind still works fine, or mine did, to begin with, except...yeah, well, before I even knew what was happening I was in trouble. The music was immense, I could feel it, it was as if it was slow motion, washing over me, and the lights were all...instead of strobes, they were wrapping around me, like something sci-fi.

I don't really know how to describe it. And it felt like it took a long time, hours, days maybe. Even when John arrived, it took me hours to reach him, because the noises and the lights still had me. I thought I was reaching out to him, but I wasn't. And anyway, he wasn't real.

The most lasting thing, I guess, the thing I still feel, in an odd way, was that I was incredibly lonely.


Upshot is, I think it's for the best that I don't go to the boat. Mycroft and I will have a nice night in, John can cope with what will seem like hundreds of tiny banshees all refusing to sleep, in a confined space, and we'll think of him as we relax with some gourmet food and maybe a bottle of wine ;)

Is it worth the aggravation, To find yourself a job when there's nothing worth working for?

It's Mycroft's first day at work tomorrow. They're going to see how he gets on, and if he's happy to, he's going to work the weekend too, to help with the rush.

If he doesn't feel ready, he'll just work weekdays for now, starting before the lunch rush until they close. But I've a feeling he'll do fine.

He's got a little apron to wear, and a black waistcoat, white shirt, black trousers - looks very smart! He actually seems sad not to be wearing a tie though, odd boy :)

Obviously we're all thinking about the freebies...I mean, wishing him well.

Sherlock already wants to visit. Which has led to low-level bickering of the sort only siblings can manage to keep going for so long.


In the allotment, our beans are growing up, our tomatoes are shooting away now, and even our spring onions, which everyone doubted, seem to be doing okay.

Lettuce is just an ongoing battle.


Work is really eating at me at the moment. I can't tell you all anything about the op, but...it's not much fun. And although I'm happy that I'm the right person to run the op, and when we catch the guy, it will be very much for the good, I'm not enjoying it.


When I was younger, people used to call me a 'pretty boy'. And I can't pretend I didn't use that, sometimes, to my advantage. But I definitely grew to hate it, too. What it was used as shorthand for. And when I joined the force, it changed, but people still thought I was younger, less experienced, than I was. People didn't take me seriously, I guess it boiled down to. Everyone always says coppers are getting younger, so I suppose having a young face didn't help. Didn't help with my confidence either, at first, especially with my background. Like I said to DW the other day, I felt like a fraud, for many reasons - my background, my sexuality, some of my ... thoughts on the people we locked up, the people we dealt with. Of course, when everyone's on refs talking about the scum down the local estate, the slag who's been sexually assaulted by the drunk boyfriend, you don't get to fight back, to say it could have been any one of us, because that's not how it works.

Of course now, now I'm more comfortable in my own skin, now I have the rank, I can speak up, and I do. And maybe sometimes that's the only way you can win the battles, by doing what you can, when you can, and accepting there are some fights it's not worth picking.

There were definitely times I thought I was in the wrong place. But I suppose whenever I really thought about anything else I could be doing, I just knew this was where I should be. And I knew I would never forgive myself if I gave it up. But it could easily have been the other way - knowing it wasn't right, and setting out on a new path.

Anyway, didn't quite mean to get sidetracked by all that. And now Sherlock is hanging off me wanting fruit with ice cream and John is trying to untie a knot in Maf's favourite fishy toy whilst she valiantly tries to kill it.

And here's a page John showed me earlier, to cheer me up. Can't believe the cheek of the florist though!! They must read this blog ;)

Gettin' up the nerve is a man's man's job

First day of the course over - we sat in a classroom, then ran about wearing far too much gear and shouting a lot. Now I'm doing my homework for the tests tomorrow.

Got home to the general air of chaos. Finally found out what had been planted at the allotment (beans). John caught the meaty-pawed dog before it trod cat food into the carpet.

Discovered one small pretending-to-sleep kitten can occupy an entire half of the sofa (If I try that I get told to budge up, or get John's feet in my lap or something. Kitten gets away with it completely unmolested.)

And finally, after some careful questioning, found out that Mycroft has been invited to have a 'trial day' at a local deli, with view to possibly getting a job there in the summer. The lady who part-owns it was impressed by his politeness, manner and, in Sherlock's words 'He knew stuff about cheese'. She is also forewarned that he is related to an ice-cream vacuum, given we went there a few times last year, because in the summer they sell ice cream.

So yeah, they sell cheese, meats, olives, oils etc. A few specialist ingredients. And do a lunchtime sandwich thing, made fresh in front of you from what they sell.

And a few other interesting things.


I saw a thing today that said if food prices had gone up as much as house prices, a chicken would cost £52.

I dunno if I should sell my place. It's...difficult. I mean, the tenants are fine, although having said that I should arrange a day to pop in and check the place over, in case it's a crack den. but...well, I'm feeling more and more like I don't need it.

Which is good. And I'd always keep enough cash back, just in case. The average price here in London has gone up by £63k in the past year - double the average wage. It's madness, right?

They'll think of something funny, When they write your epitaph

Sometimes I think I'm really not cut out to deal with people who actually seem to like me. I'm fine at work, because it's rare anyone does. 'Customers' I mean, not colleagues. Colleagues are...well, they're all fine, but it's not as if I worry if they like me or not. As long as it doesn't get in the way of the job, I don't really care. It's a job, not a popularity contest.

Anyway, sometimes I wonder where that comes from. Or if everyone doesn't feel a bit like that.

I don't like self pity. I'll come straight out with that, because what I'm about to say probably sounds much like it.

I suppose I like being in control, is what it comes down to. And accepting there are things I'm not in control of. Or not responsible for. I want to fix everything. So I try to. And then, inevitably, I fail, because...they are not things of which I am in control. And then I feel bad. And then I feel bad about feeling bad, because it's as if I've not only failed to fix the (unfixable) problem, but then I am the problem, too. Or deflecting attention from the problem. When...really I shouldn't have stuck my oar in at all and it definitely shouldn't be about me.

I've sat here looking at that for quite a long time now and I'm not sure it makes any sense.


Tomorrow we're cleaning up the school. The outdoor area has been neglected over the winter, and now the kids are gearing up to play outside more again, it needs a good tidy. And Sherlock wants the pond tidied before any frogspawn appears. He says it's 'due any time now', so there we go. Need to attract the spawniest frogs, clearly. No one'll come and live in a scruffy pond. So there's been a quick ad hoc gardening party organised for tomorrow afternoon, where people will come if they can for as long as they can, and get stuff done. I want to clean out the pumps at the least, cut back some vegetation, that sort of thing.


The seminar went well. Odd place to go back to. Not the best memories in the world, that hotel.

His existence was distanced from everyone else

One day, John and I will be here - or somewhere similar - and there won't be anyone to supervise while they brush their teeth. No one to tuck in. A little voice won't cheekily appear (long before it's owner) to ask for a glass of water, or to register some other complaint. (No, we can't phone Heathrow and make them stop the aeroplanes).

And if there isn't that, there won't be the moment of stillness after. The slowing of the flat. The gentle tidying up and putting away that currently happens. Because that stillness, that silence, will be here all the time. (almost.)

There won't be us, on the sofa (when we have one), ears pricking up just as much as the dogs' ever do, when there's a sound which might be the thump of small feet swinging out of bed and onto the floor.

The TV volume won't be down low. Our bedroom door may not be closed. I can assure you, I won't be sleeping in shorts!

And it will be a new chapter in our lives - a welcome one. But this current chapter will be done, and I know we'll both look back at it longingly, too.


Days like today, when I'm at home, I get little flash-forwards, to that time. Because from 9-3(roughly speaking), it is the two of us, and the flat does have that stillness. Even worse, when I've been here alone, for whatever reason, when the door closes solidly as John leaves for school with Sherlock. And the silence (such as London's silence is), is heavy around me. I don't like it, when it's like that.

It's the time - the only time, now - when I feel like I don't belong here. Like a visitor in someone else's house. For many reasons, all of them past, not present.

I very much hope, though, that that future-silence which is creeping up on us, is still broken, by Mycroft (door closed carefully, latch checked, coat hung, shoes removed WITH laces undone) and Sherlock (Door pushed, coat thrown, shoes possibly kicked off, laces firmly fastened.)


As you can probably guess, I've been thinking a lot today.

I have waited for the rain to come

Quiet, isn't it?

I haven't really been in the mood. For...anything, to be honest.

Had a very sad case to deal with, which is all questions and few answers. Had to talk to the family, who are 7000 miles away. They had questions I didn't have answers to. I had questions they didn't have answers to. And working through a translator makes it all the more difficult to understand each other. Cultural differences, too, add to confusion.

I'm trying to help arrange them to have the bodies sent home, but it's difficult, and expensive. But we've managed it before, via charities and governments and all that.


Anyway, off today. Did some work on the bike with John. He's good - surgeon's hands ;)

Had to have a ride too, obviously, can't lube a cold chain. Comment on that as you will.

Then had to go and see Sherlock, and get out the crayons. It's nice, watching the kids all stuck in to their work. Wish I could go more often.


Here's the planet John and I thought we'd found....which isn't a planet, Mycroft informs us, but an eclipsing binary. Well, we got excited for a bit ;)

Um...soo... anyone got any questions? Things they want to talk about? Or have we all got the January blues?

She won't let you fly, but she might let you sing

So, home, dried off, gear now dripping dry over the bath. I'm snuggled up with my husband, who I've missed a lot today.


Went to see Mum today. Although I suppose I mainly went to see Nicky.

We met up at Mum's old house. The little garden is really overgrown, and now all dead for winter. Needs a lot of tlc. But it wasn't the weather for that today. And anyway, whoever gets it won't care. It's theirs to do as they like with, they'll undoubtedly just be happy to have somewhere to live.

The house does seem empty, without her, and her few things she's taken. They let you sort of, do out your room, if you want, with your own furniture. So she took the table out of her room, and one of the armchairs, and a bookcase and TV. And there wasn't loads else. Beds, the rest of the three-piece suite, a horrible kitchen table and chairs.

Nicky said she'd asked if any of the others wanted anything, but Sam and Rach didn't. Danny didn't answer.

We went through the few books she'd left - there were barely any anyway. Just recipe books, a few things people have bought her over the years. Mostly untouched, spines still uncreased.

And then there's photos. As Nicky said, none from when we were small, unless other people had given them to her. But some from later in our childhood, when the others where still quite young.

Very few, though. Cost money, didn't it, to buy your film, get it developed. So it only happened on special occasions. There's a few holiday pictures. Mostly with the men of her life in them. I don't know if she'll want them.

The ripple effect is too good not to mention.

Well...we're mainly sorted for Christmas now. Few bits of food still to get, but basically...

Sherlock cannot wait to finish school. He is absolutely bursting for Christmas to arrive. And snow. But Christmas is a certainty, and snow very much isn't. Rain is though. Lots of it.

Mycroft is carefully planning food on Christmas Day, along with Mrs Hudson. Trying to balance everything, and resist Sherlock's more bizarre desires.


Last post I talked a bit about Mum's stuff, and Nicky. I'm going to get down to see them...probably Monday. Maybe Sunday into Monday.

John offered to come with me, but...I have no idea if it's a good idea or not. We're literally clearing stuff out, as in...if it's very special, it might be kept, but otherwise... I don't have any space here, the flat is packed with just us in it. Nicky doesn't really have any room, and the council want the flat back as fast as possible.

Also...well, what's the point of keeping things? Mum doesn't even want to look at anything, she says she's got everything she needs. (Nicky...has kept some things for her anyway. Things she thinks Mum would miss in the long run. We all know how stubborn Mum can be, and don't actually want her to suffer for it.)

As for me...I don't think there's anything of my family history that she has that I want. That's part of why it's so hard sorting it all out. There's all sorts of things that none of us particularly want reminding of. It's also why Nicks shouldn't do it all on her own, though.


Anyway, last night we went out and bought baubles.

Here's mine.

It's like a drop shape, and the 'holes' all sort of meet in the middle. It's a bit odd, but I like it. And it's another tradition ticked off the list.


Other notable news is that Danger can breathe easy - the law against 'Being an incorrigible rogue' was repealed this year. He is no longer at risk of me arresting him ;)

I also found out the other day that for some time, in the mid 1900s, all policemen had to be trained to catch swans. I have no idea why, but apparently the best could catch two swans at once!

Yesterday was 30 years since the Harrods bombing. Six people were killed, three of them police officers. I think it showed, during the more recent terrorist actions, who had lived through past campaigns. A sort of world weariness. Compared to people who had never been through anything like it.

Anyway, I'm out tonight, on the lash with the team, and whoever else we mop up from around the yard. I apologise in advance for anything I may say in comments...

Little things I should've said and done, I never took the time

Today's been good.

Sherlock was up bright and early, demanding breakfast and wanting to go out right then and start having fun.

He was persuaded to sit down and eat his breakfast on the end of our bed. Then, once he'd settled down a little, he was persuaded to re-enact his parts of the play yesterday.

It was slightly hard to tell what was going on, given that he thought I'd somehow be able to work out exactly what all the missing characters were also doing... but anyway, he was a nasty storm, and very angry, with lots of lightning bolts, at first...but then, through some sort of...well, I'm not really sure why, but eventually he ended up showing that the earth needed his rain to grow things, and...he stopped being so nasty? Turned into gentle rain? I'm unsure... there was singing, and violin playing, and it all seemed to end well, which was the main thing, I suppose? It would have been nice seeing all the other kids. But from John's photos I think there were farmers/gardeners, plants, some animals...and assorted other things. A rainbow, there was definitely a rainbow.

He might be able to explain more, if he chooses to. You know what kids are like, once his attention is elsewhere, this will seem so unimportant it's as if he can't even remember it.

Anyway, Mycroft took us all ice skating at the Natural History Museum this morning, once we'd congregated. I do wish there was a way we could get the dogs on the ice - they'd be hilarious. But we can't. And luckily they aren't allowed in the museum, or they'd be on their toes with half a diplodocus before you could say 'sit!'.

Whilst John, Mark and the kids all dived into the museum (well...John may have been dragged... entry is not made faster by Sherlock quizzing the security guards, I believe. "Are you looking for bombs? Have you ever found a bomb? What would you do if you found a bomb? Why would people want to blow up a museum?" etc...) Nicky and went and found coffee and had a chat about Mum. Well, Mum and her house, all her stuff. She can only take a certain amount with her, into her new place. She's being very unhelpful about it, and Nicky's got the hard task of going through everything. Dragging up a lot of memories. I feel bad for not being there, but...well, I'll go down as soon as I can. Sam's been back and forth, helping. Danny hasn't, but I feel sure he'll turn up at some point, see what he can get.


Anyway, then Mycroft cooked us all a lovely dinner, with only a bit of help, from me and Carla, and Sherlock helped make mince pies, and took some down to Mrs Hudson (and probably ate most of them while he told her about our day...we'll take her some more.)

And finally...peace.

Tomorrow Nicky etc. have to go home, so in the afternoon there is a rumour we may buy a tree....

Must be someone else. Must be someone else. Must be,

Having one of those days. When everything feels like it's far too hard to deal with. Thinking, doing things, everything. But life goes on around, so have to try and keep up, right?

We're...about 90% sure that Mum needs more care than she can get at home. Nicky and I have both talked to her about it.

She's less...against it than she has been.

Nicky's going around some places that have wardens and things - so she'll still have her own space, but she'll also have more help. We hope.

Obviously she still thinks we're just spying on her and don't trust her. But I think she's realising she needs it, too.


Ah, forgot I was writing this. Can't remember what I was going to say now.

Have a song. It's on a playlist I've been listening to a bit recently. I like it.




Sherlock is full of beans about fireworks. I'm not sure what we'll do this year. I'm trying very hard to keep up with his enthusiasm. It's not easy. I don't know how John manages for so many hours a day.

I feel bad when I'm like this, at work, at home, feel like I'm just about keeping up with the essentials and not really...involving myself any more.


One of my cases is very difficult at the moment. I mean, they all are, in their own ways, but this one...there's three young boys, and we believe one of their parents murdered the other. Then committed suicide. How do you deal with that when you're only 6 or 7 years old? That's your whole world, isn't it. Everything you know.

I do just want to bring them all home. Take care of them all.

Last night I headed out to the river, by the barrier. I like it out there.

Except when I went to start the bike up again I realised that I'd forgotten I was almost out of petrol...and now I wasn't going to get far. Anyway, luckily, John and Sherlock came to my rescue. I'm very lucky to have them, willing to help me.

Alright don't worry even if things end up a bit too heavy

Hope you all brought your washing in, UK-ites. Battened down your cats. Tied any elderly relatives to a sturdy object. Put children in the basement. That sort of thing.

We're not taking Mycroft back to school - he is, sadly, still going - but Anthea's taking him in a vehicle that could probably survive the apocalypse, let alone a bit of a stiff breeze.

Motorbikes wouldn't have been a good idea. I have no desire to take up any emergnecy service's time and energy by doing something stupid.

Although I think it fairly likely I'll get some work off the back of it, if it is as bad as they say it will be.

Sherlock is desperate to stay awake and see it all. Although it'll probably result in a few recycling boxes and bin lids blowing around and the odd tree giving up and having a lie down.


Today. Today was...I'm still a bit lost for words.

It's not the game, it's a scar

So, back at work today. In the pouring rain and general misery of the wet, cold city!

Lots to catch up on, as always, as well as trying to book myself on various refresher courses before my training record looks bad again. Shit might hit the fan tomorrow, with an announcement about direct entry to the police.

Still, John and Sherlock came and visited me once the rain had stopped, which was nice.

Sherlock read what we were talking about last night and gave me a big hug this morning (and told me I couldn't get kidnapped again).

It's odd. I sort of thought, at the time, that although I didn't know what to think or do then, that it would sort of... come to me.

It hasn't. I still don't know what to think about it all. I don't really know what to say about it. I wouldn't mind talking about it all...except I still don't know what to say. It's just a thing, and it happened, like a lot of shitty things have happened, and...now they're done. And better things are happening. And you can't do anything about the stuff that's happened, you can just make the future better. So...


We saw the space station tonight - Mycroft told us it would be really bright, and it was. Amazing.

John hasn't been called out yet...but I imagine he will soon...

And have a picture of the kitchen in our little cabin we stayed in, because...I have one.

Bands won't play no more, too much fighting on the dance floor

Is it true Mars Rover is on strike?

Seems to be the day for it (although I can't pretend to understand the ins and outs of the American shut down.) I do understand teachers here though. I still can't believe how many people seem to moan about teachers. I mean, long holidays seems to be all they focus on. Never mind having to deal with 35 of the little....darlings on your own. Plus it's another scenario where people moan about someone in another profession 'having it easy' - if it's that bloody easy why don't they go and sign up for it?? Understand the fire service, too.

Anyway, got that out of my system. Maybe ;)

Having a rant because I've just been dealing with press queries forwarded to me ... honestly, I am all for people knowing what we do, how we do it (to a certain extent) and an open and honest relationship with the public we serve. But certain members of the press ask such leading questions, with such obvious motivation. Still...all part of the job.


Had a lovely day today, once we managed to persuade Sherlock he really was off to school. John and I had a very peaceful day. Bit of a run on the bikes (yes, bad us, we took Sherlock to school on the bikes so we could carry on out - and it's international Walk to School Month! Ooops...) Anyway, yeah, then back home, did some chores, then John...persuaded me to go to sleep. So I got a few hours kip ;)

We went to the park after school, also good. And nice to get to chat to other parents/carers too.

Apparently 1 in five Brits have tattoos now. (Good for us - we like lots of identifying marks!). I can't ever imagine anything I'd want for the rest of my life. What made me laugh was that people who get them 'have a stronger desire to be seen as 'unique' - but loads of people get the same tattoos! You're 'more' unique (sorry, sorry, Mycroft, I know you can't be 'more' unique...) when you don't have them, then, surely!

Right, have I rambled on enough?

Danger...now I've volunteered, when is Sherlock's swimming lesson?

Then came act two, you seemed to change, you acted strange

So...heading North. On my own. Not really what I'd like to be doing right now.

I...well, it's been a weird couple of days, since the package arrived. I'm still...well, still going through a lot of emotions about it all. Thanks for all your views. It helps, having different viewpoints.

I've still no idea what to do with it - well, to be honest, I can't do anything yet. The yard are checking it all, in case I lied and it's not from a relative, but a bribe or gift of some form.

I'm not sure we can tell Mum. I just...well, I don't know how she'd react. But I don't think it would be good. She didn't even want me to keep his name, let alone now have any contact with him. And I can't blame her.

Like I said, it's not...I don't know, it's not the letter, the gesture - or whatever it is - that really gets me. It's the lack of control, I suppose. The fact he's done what he wants, and not even...let anyone react, let alone confront him. Perhaps those are the wrong words. Too...aggressive. I don't know when it comes to him.

All I can imagine is a weak man who liked to hurt other people - with words and deeds.


Anyway, that's all a bit depressing.

I'm back here on Weds - when I might finally get a drink with Murray! Honestly, he'll start to think I'm avoiding him...and then he might wonder why.

Mycroft gets his exam results on Thursday. I'm more excited and nervous than I ever was for my own results. I didn't even fetch mine. Nicky did, because she said I should know, even if I was trying to avoid it. Take some responsibility for my life.

have a bit of Elvis to cheer up a dreary post. Never fails to make me laugh.

Say you'll be all right come tomorrow, But tomorrow might not be here for you

Had a bit of a shit day. It was all going fine until i got asked to go down to a crime scene - not my case, glad to say - and look at something. Sometimes I'd rather not have 'expertise'.

Anyway, it was just a smell. Brought back some really strong memories. Ones I'd really rather not remember. I mean, I carried on and did everything but...just, I don't know. Left me feeling really off. Coffee with John made me feel better. Sometimes just need reminding about here and now.

In happier news, when I was in with SOCO earlier they'd finished with a little item I'd asked to have, providing it wasn't needed for the case...

Lyrically perform armed robbery, Flee with the lottery, Possibly they spotted me

Well, here it is:

The lovely new bike.

It's a lovely ride. Light, big wide bars so it handles like a dream. Nippy, and powerful. Brilliant braking system. All round a lovely bike. I'd prefer it to still have the big round lights, not the odd shaped ones it has - but the rest of the bike makes you forget that pretty fast! It's brilliant.

I'm going to ride it for a week or so, then I'll re-adjust the suspension and things to suit me. Probably get a fly screen. We'll see. I'm happy to get add ons later and tinker with it for a bit to get it perfect.

Sherlock is happy because it matches his kit. I think he thinks it's his bike, and I'm just the chauffeur...

And, on to more of Italy!

I believe I've waited long enough

Firstly, given other comments on John's blog:

Grate two courgettes, chuck in a bowl, mix in 5 tablespoons of flour and three eggs. Season. Chop up a pepper, maybe some onion - whatever you have, really. Chuck in a pan with a bit of oil. Throw in any extras you want - feta, halloumi, bacon, whatever. Season. Either set this aside once it's cooked, and use the same pan again, or get another pan, spoon in big spoonfuls of the courgette batter, cook, flip, cook. Eat.

I walked to and from work today. Needed to...well, get moving a bit. And it's quite nice, London, when it's quiet and the weather's half-decent.

I've been going over and over this one thing in my head.