It is June. Behold our lovely summer out here on the Thames Delta.
We have a new set of bathroom scales. They claim I am the same weight I was at the beginning of lockdown. Therefore they are broken. Because, seriously, I am Quarantine Manatee now..
Inbox 11. I can barely see, and today I commence a full week of working out the whole of the last three issues of THE BATMAN’S GRAVE in fine detail, as an entire unit, to make sure I land that thing as effectively as possible. Given that my brain is dead now. Probably best not to expect fast responses this week.
Wiping some more things off the board to move into 2021, because 2020’s been a destructive bastard. Good morning, reader. Time we were off.