Home now. I realise I forgot to post the curtain call shot.
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It was a very visually spare production but that did tend to concentrate the mind. There were good supertitles. The cuts seemed to me to tighten it up, although if they do that to Parsifal next year I'll be at the front of the flaming pitchfork brigade. The Tristan was Stuart Skelton, whom I cordially loathe, but he seems to be flavour of the month. Can't have everything. (Come to think of it, if they cast him as Parsifal I may not even buy a ticket.)
Caliban had a rest yesterday while we went to a jigsaw fair in my friend's petrol Golf. Came back with six jigsaws between three of us.
Set off this afternoon with 206 miles range for a 186 mile journey. Given the way the car behaved on the A65, if it had been a warm dry day I might have got all the way if I'd gone steady on the motorway. For 80 miles. Um.
Anyway, the temperature was low, 11°C when got into Scotland, the rain was torrential and relentless, the roads were waterlogged, and my range vanished. Obviously. I stopped at the Carlisle Ionitys because they seemed less busy than the Gretna Tesla superchargers. Got a charger immediately and put in about 25% of the battery to get to 50% and 90 miles range, for 73 miles. Torrential rain continued and that buffer vanished as well. By the time I got to the Wells of Tweed I had 21 miles range with 28 miles to go.
Nae problemo. From there to Broughton the road is practically a friction-compensated inclined plane. You only lose a mile or two's range in 15 miles. Got home with plenty room to pack away plenty of Octopus's 3.5p electricity tomorrow night, and even enough to pick the cat up from the cattery first.
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Got home, turned on central heating, turned on fan heater, made tea, listened to rain battering on the roof.