Sat outside drinking beer and thinking about unreliable narrators – I've one in my hard drive and I don't know where she's headed - and reading some shorts – stories not pants, pants are generally less rewarding, unless they're really nice pants.
Read a nifty Gaiman short How to Talk to Girls at Parties which pretty much sums up my experiences with girls at parties when I was young. Women really were an alien species, and that was with two sisters – who I adore, hey K & J. It's a very sweet tale, and you can find it in Gaiman's Fragile Things.
Also read Updike's The Lucid Eye in Silver Town another nice short, this one about siblings and fathers and sons and the various rivalries that inhabit these relationships.
The beer was settling well, and the sky dimming to the point where reading wasn't an option, but the night has other attractions, I watched the city turn the clouds red and the fruit bats swim beneath them with desultory jerks of their wings – I love the way fruit bats fly, they seem to lack the decisiveness of birds, but that's only from my vantage point, they know where they're going, like a good short story.
Talking of which, the anthology I am most looking forward to reading this year is this one. Check it out, pre-order it, I've not had a lot to do with the editor but his heart and his mind are in everything he does. It's going to be an absolute cracker I reckon.