The Queen’s final Christmas speech before she died is listed as the “series finale” on TheTVDB, ha.

I’m flattered Hozier wants my phone number. But I shouldn’t have to give it to him just so I can get emails about his next tour dates.

I propose we bring back the 19th century tea dance. It’s so much better than a night club or bar. It’s held nice and early, from 4 to 7pm. Often in a lovely garden. Not a DJ in sight, just a lovely live string band. There’s alcohol yes, but also tea, coffee, sandwiches and cakes. Perfection.

“It was illegal until the mid-1960s for bars in New York to sell alcohol to people known to be gay.” en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tea_…

I love the wonderful terminology of American music in the 1940’s. Crooner, bobby soxers, doo-wop, hep cat, zoot suit, rag cutter, jitterbug, be-bop, boogie-woogie, hepcat, juke joint, swooner, moldy fig, killer-diller.

The original toilet roll patent from 1891 clearly shows it should hang over the roll, not under.

The Google Maps iOS app finally has a speedometer on it.

I rate films precisely out of 100. I can tell you exactly what I liked and disliked.

But books? They’re all just “pretty good I guess”.

Sunday so far: a walk, a shop and a burger from a greasy spoon. 🥾🌲🍔

Next: Tour de France and then either Snatch or Hot Fuzz. Steak pie for dinner. 🚵🍿🥧

I’ve written about the struggle of birthdays in an extrovert-centric world. Ron Swanson gets it.