I've got to rush off to a screening of a new Mexican film, so I'll just list the highlights of the past weekend:

Friday afternoon, sat in the surprisingly warm sunlight at Golders Hill Park, reading Alexander MCall Smith's utterly charming The No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency.

Met up with Pano, and we went for a long walk across the Heath, via Kenwood House and the various Ponds, one of which was frozen. "It's poetry," Pano declaimed, "frozen in time." "Time for a drink," quoth I.

A pint in the Spaniard, then many more in the William. "I've just worked it out," said Pano, on the fourth pint, "this is a gay bar, isn't it?"

Lovely dinner in the exotic restaurant on Hampstead High Street, near the tube. Can't remember the name of the place, nor can I precisely pinpoint the cuisine: Moroccan? Lebanese? Turkish? Not sure, but it had all the middle-eastern trappings you could ask for - hubbly-bubby, belly dancer - and my lamb tagine with prunes and cinnamon was superb.

Saturday: Bought 300 copies of The Guardian. Nah, not really. Watched as my stats went through the roof. Nice to see most visitors read a couple of pages.

Marcus and I rented a couple of DVDs and stayed in, watching the disappointing Signs and the wonderful Sunshine State.

Sunday: Gave the RVT a miss for a change, but popped in to Dukes later and had a reasonably sober chat with Ian. Which makes a nice change.