Last night, Captain B and I watched the programme the BBC made about Frank Gardner's return to Saudi. He is the journalist who was shot on the streets of Riyadh in 2004. His cameraman,Simon Cumbers, was killed, and he was left for dead. He returned in a wheelchair, as he can no longer walk.
Frank Gardner tried to speak about Simon Cumbers' death, but broke down at that point.
He is an impressive guy, and it was an interesting and touching programme. And it sometimes made me feel oddly homesick, as I remembered all the good things about our years there. And some of the frightening times too, towards the end of our stay, when the troubles in the Middle East began to spill over us.
It is a grey day today, rather lovely with a mist of light rain and white horses all over the Channel.
We go off to look at our proposed bathroom today - or bits of it - the "Sunset" range perhaps? Or the "Knocking at Heaven's Door", or the "For the Yearily Challenged" range. But in the blunt old days I'm sure it would have been the "You're Past It" bathroom suite.
As I have probably said, what I really really want is a sunken bath with lovely wide shallow steps to get me up and down, but the people in the flat below might have something to say about it.