The summer was far from tranquil. I had hoped to avoid travel but wound up in Liverpool and London. If you take a train out of Euston station, do not take the cheapest seat. Reserve a seat. You will have a nicer trip. And ignore Rick Steves’ remarks about cabbies. Not all are genial tour guides.

Returning home, I received a call to jury duty for a fairly lurid murder case. This is my third jury and I have yet to find one with Henry Fonda. We might have well been a family reunion at Thanksgiving. Still, it was a difficult experience. There is always a sense that you are not being told the most important facts and this invariably turns out to be true.

so, I am back home and painting mostly 3mm and 10mm stuff. I am amazed at the variations in size and girth for different manufacturers. I have not recovered most of my rule books after the move. Very painful to lose them. At least, it focuses me on the rules I have available. It has become painfully apparent that it is going to be a race between losing my eyesight or dying, and finishing painting everything. I will likely end up like my father, lying in a hospice bed ordering miniatures even then.

To anyone curious, that is a photo of the British Library and just beyond, St. Pancras Station.