I watched the first ten minutes of Christopher and His Kind because I wanted to see how Matt Smith handled a role very unlike the one we know and love him for. Having ascertained that he does self-contained as well as he does daffy I switched off because I already knew the story. That's the trouble with being 60: you already know all the stories. Besides where was the atmosphere? Where was the Germanness? Why was that chuffer train chuffing through English meadows?
Neutering hasn't yet cured the rabbit boys of their ambition to be top rabbit- or their love of a fight. It never cured Tosh either. Ailz worries about their short term well-being (one of them has unpicked his wound) and I worry about bonding three bunny Napoleons over the long term. This is why we wanted females, goddammit- and why I'm still a bit cross about the sales assistant sexing them wrong.
I did a bit of decorating yesterday- painting over some of the scars the workmen left behind.