(Title tribute to Dave Shelton's Good Dog Bad Dog.)
To be fair, the FedEx vans tend to be more polite than the usual white van. The Evening Standard vans, they may not be all white (they have orange stripes), but those vans, they have murder in their rotten little hearts.
This morning I cycled to a coffee shop on the north bank that I've been meaning to try for ages. It had a lot of posh continental deli food and was a bit dark inside, but the coffee was good and there was one bright table in the front window that Nice Laptop Man and a potted orange tree let me share with them. I drew this picture there very fast and with all of three seconds thought, but it comes from a long-time dislike of those motorised beasts and several encounters that morning. Sometimes I just want to kick them.
The last pic is two of our dignified dinner guests this evening, in their jammies. One of the good things about lots of our friends having young kids is that, after they leave to put their kids to bed and we've washed the dishes, there's still time to sit and finish off the wine and kick back. But then you spend the next three days finding things they left behind in the most random places.