Sunday's Torchwood was rather better than the previous week's double-bill. At least there seemed to be some sort of coherent plot to it.
As kharin had been told to take someone out for a meal at his employer's expense, we went to Al-Fassia, a Moroccan restaurant in Windsor on Monday. I'd been once before and rather enjoyed it, and the food was good again. Like the QI Bookshop in Oxford, it doesn't seem to have a website, but it survives by word-of-mouth approval, and the occasional appearance in top listings for 'ethnic' restaurants (it's been in the Independent a couple of times in the last few years, one of the few places that give evidence their researchers travel outside of London, though perhaps Windsor is not all that far beyond the M25).
Tuesday was quiet; but after a stressful day at work, lying down in a darkened room was probably the most productive thing I could have done on arrival at home.
And tonight: Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall takes on Jamie Oliver. I wasn't particularly motivated by the trailer for the River Cottage Experience, but it turned out to be a better programme than it might have been. I'm sure there will be lots of complaints about showing the slaughter of a chicken, particularly before the watershed. But like most reality TV programmes, the most disturbing thing about it was the members of the public that appeared in it. Chicken lovers? I eat chicken often enough, but I find it difficult to imagine it being a favourite food. Now game, on the other hand, ...