A very low key day, without notable achievement. I set up my piano keyboard last night and tortured the memory of Chopin, Gershwin and others until I felt better.
Struggled to finish Adam Roberts' short novel "Splinter". It's a gloss on an obscure Jules Verne novel, "Hector Servadac" aka "Off on a Comet, although it owes a lot to a least a couple of Stanislaw Lem novels. Fittingly it's published by Solaris Books.
Quelled a craving for fish and chips by visiting the Paradise Cafe around the corner. I suspect the fish had been in paradise for so long it's an official greeter. But not for crustaceans: God Hates Shrimp.
After my attempted survey of the maze of Broughton thoroughfares in Edinburgh, Language Log looks at the bigger picture in Fifty Ways to Lose Your Lover.