Reading was all forgettable Stephen Booth and The Watchmaker of Filigree Street. There were stunning leafscapes and skyscapes seen from bikeback, but memory refuses to hold on to an image of them. I have to enjoy the scene in the moment because I know I'll forget it as soon as I arrive at home or at work. (Memory holds on to bad weather just fine: rainy days, muggy days, indifferent smoggy days: I can see them perfectly in my mind's eye.) (There are people who don't have mind's eyes. I find this inconceivable.)
Otherwise the usual saga of ouchy knees and IT bands and gunky lungs. Have had all these for a decade at least: they just seem to be worse nowadays.