The wonderful thing about coming home early is my musical neighbours.

My upstairs neighbour plays the double bass, and my next-door neighbour is a celloist. If I'm lucky, I get to hear both practising - although if they're both going at it simultaneously it's a little like being trapped between battling string instruments. It's usually quite pleasant, however, like something out of a French movie; the soothing notes reverberating through the walls, adding to the creative, urban atmosphere of my oh-so-chic late-19th-Century apartment. Yes. Except, unlike every French movie ever made, there's no tousle-haired beauty lounging, in her risque underwear, in my apartment. Just a tousle-haired (and currently surprisingly smelly) cat.

Pizza time.  ¶ 19:00