Day Eight: March 18, 2014. 8.15am. As the traffic mounts (!), a pigeon flies the roost never to be seen again.
Temperature: A mild morning. But grey. Appropriately grey. Though it has been real pleasant so one mustn’t complain.
Greyscale: A clarity of grey. Couldn’t be anymore honest, could it?
In E L James’s words: “Read me book!” Ms James cries foul. “Then you can take the mickey!”