A junior asked me to look at a bug report before he sent it because, apparently, I explain things clearly. I nearly told him to read the examples first. Thankfully I asked what was confusing him instead. We spent ten minutes working through it and he said thanks without sounding as though he wanted anything else. I was pleased. More pleased than I was with the title change, if I'm honest. Then I worried I'd taken over his report rather than helped him write it. I checked the final version later. He'd kept his own wording in several places. Slightly untidy, entirely understandable. I left it alone.

Lane three was busy, so I spent the first few lengths trying not to kick anyone. Oddly, that made me swim more gently than usual. No chasing the clock, just enough pressure through my hands to move and a breath when there was room. My right leg felt less tight afterwards, although sitting in the car undid some of that fairly efficiently. At home the dog leaned against my shin while I made tea. I stayed standing for once, one hand on his head, feeling the heat through his fur. Then I sat down to check one email and discovered forty minutes had passed. Excellent consistency from the operator.

The crossword Dad sent has a clue whose answer I am certain about, except it doesn't fit the letters he already has. My first response was that his crossing answer must be wrong. He sent a photograph. The clue is different from the one I thought I'd read. I do this for a living, allegedly. Now I'm trying to solve the actual clue without looking it up, partly for the pleasure of it and partly because I don't want to send a correction with nothing useful attached. Dad has already texted that he is making tea. He appears to be handling the unresolved issue considerably better than I am.