I was disappointed that Murray didn't do better yesterday but one good thing about the result was that he didn't seem too upset by it himself.

I missed most of the third set because I went off to play golf, but despite the snow having disappeared the course was still closed.  That was disappointing although I was then able to watch much of the rest of the tennis live.

Things come in threes and a third disappointment lay in wait.  That was Lincoln.  It's up for all sorts of Oscars but I found its pious goody two-shoes tone tedious, its shadow strewn cinematography unenlightening and its exposition confusing.  Now I'm totally ignorant of the history of the period so perhaps the latter is my fault but I was hard-pressed to tell one bewhiskered gentleman from another or to distinguish the niceties of their various positions.

When I got home I had a trawl through the reviews to try to understand the error of my ways.  The Guardian with its five stars didn't convince me nor did The Telegraph's four.  Happily I found that I was not the only doubter of the film's excellence and according to The Daily Mail its history was pretty much bunk as well. 

Since their reviewer, a Mr Tookey, so well echoed my reaction to Lincoln I broke my rule about not reading reviews in advance and took a peek at what he had to say about Zero Dark Thirty.  On that basis if I go it will only be for the free coffee on a Tuesday afternoon.