Admin2′s birthday outing to New Woman, Bilgepump and Cuz. And our best September sunshine day ever: 8.38kWh.
Admin1 is reading The Crow Trap by Anne Cleeves (elaborate and ambitiously constructed, but overlong and a bit confusing). Admin2 is reading The Slaves of Solitude by Patrick Hamilton. We scored five on the Guardian Weekend quiz. Oh dear.

Admin1 stayed at home and watched Dark City, and was interested to find that his original opinion (in Matrix 132, Jul/Aug 1998) was if anything intensified, despite the good reputation the film now has:

I was telling a friend about Dark City. “Think forties films,” I said, “dark mean streets, homburgs, crisp and witty dialogue, femmes fatales, plots to die for. Dark City has none of them. Well, apart from the homburgs. And the rain.” All style and no substance, the film reminded me of nothing so much as a routine Dr Who story, with its daft aliens, dull dialogue, plot holes you could drive the Nostromo through, and absolute refusal to follow up on the existential terror of its premise of reality-altering technology (see Le Guin’s The Lathe of Heaven or any number of Dick books for infinitely better treatments). It was just an excuse for second-rate special FX.