4.30 I've been writing obituaries about a Jewish musician whose manager stole all his money; the man who invented the suspension for the Mini; the man who sorted out the IT issues at Terminal Five.

Dog and I go for a walk, the fields are bare but there's a lot of sky. Mostly it's still green, but some of the leaves are turning and there's a sense of decay and settling mists. 

Playing old Simon and Garfunkel in the car, bought at a

CD fair in the Conservative Club Hall in Southwold. I have 'So long, Frank Lloyd Wright' going around in my head as we walk, and when we get home, I look up Frank Lloyd Wright on Google to see if I like the architecture any better after the song (which, it turns out, isn't really about FLW in any case). It doesn't excite me much, but probably because I never knew a time when his style hadn't yet been invented. I look at a virtual tour of the Bueller House; Frank and I part company when we get to the 22 carat ceiling. 

I liked the colours and textures of the submerged leaves in the puddles.