And here's an exciting photo of Leeds University Sports Centre, where I was again involved in tormenting some student doctors with an exam:
Never mind the things on the ground, look at the sky.
Just to remind anyone who can't remember, that's what it looks like when it doesn't have clouds in it.
And I'm off to Tenby in search of some more of it tomorrow. The Communist is coming out of hospital and going to a nursing home: my brother's here from Amsterdam to look after him: the rest of us are going to Tenby in South Wales for a week, where there are clean seas and golden sands and beautiful walks, and where we've been many, many times for rest and restoration. This year in particular, we could all do with the break.
But tonight when I visited the Communist he was sleepy and weak and I didn't want to go away and leave him behind. So I'm planning to wait until he's in the nursing home and then visit him before we leave. And I still feel terrible: though even through his sleepiness he knew exactly what was happening, and is pleased to be moving from the Ward of Doom.
So perhaps that was my last visit to that ward. Mad George was asleep. Polite Ted was nowhere to be seen - the staff were beginning to wonder where he was. When I arrived the ward door was open, unusually. I like to think that Polite Ted had made a run for it and is even now on a train chugging along to somewhere lovely.