So I'm reading Alan Bennett again.

Anais Ninn and Dostoevsky are driving me crazy. They're like two teenage kids in the back seat of the car whinging about how they're depressed and wearing too much eye makeup and colouring their fingernails in with permanent markers.

Alan Bennett, on the other hand, sits next to you and says hilarious things about people you both know.

Anyway, I was reading Alan in the bath and I chucked in a lurid pink bath bomb. Now, from about the water level (my belly button) down to my toes, is a light tinge of pink.

Two tone reading. Nice.