Being a bit under the weather, I decided the answer was lots of sleeping, interspersed, as is traditional, with slouching on a sofa in front of a DVD.
So I treated myself to a copy of The Deadly Assassin.

Lots of good things among the special features, but one that caught my attention was about the reaction the story received from a certain Mary Whitehouse, a major campaigner on the side of moral outrage during the 1970s

I was particularly struck by something that, surely, must have been remarked upon before, though my own meagre googling efforts could produce nothing.
So here we go:

Had a day's filming yesterday, for the Police Bravery Awards.  I was playing one of a group of police officers who faced down and arrested an armed youth.  Was all quite exciting: Filming on "The Bill Backlot" at Talkback Thames, in Merton.  Using a lot of genuine police equipment, shouting obscenities loudly in public over and over again (always fun).  My shouted "stand still you c----" seemed to produce a lot of interest, including, if I'm not mistaken, from Simon Rouse (The Bill's "Jack Meadows") who was doing a photoshoot just behind us.

A good day.  Ok, slightly marred by one incident, where, when I was chasing our "villain", I missed my footing on a bit of loose gravelly surface, and prostrated myself on the rather unforgiving concrete road.  Hands first, of course, as one does.  Lovely big area of skin missing from my right elbow, scrapes on both palms, and a very shaken left arm, that, although not all that painful, didn't really work properly for the rest of the day.  We were nearly done by then, however, so I carried on - wouldn't want to get a reputation for being a wimpish actor, and besides, I thought it was just a bit of a strain.  Did make the handcuffing sequence a bit tricky though, as my left arm had less strength than usual.

By the time I got home though, it was starting to be a bit of a problem.  Slept on it, and went to A&E this morning.  Cracked the head of the radius, apparently.  Not badly, so no plaster, just a sling and some nice painkillers.

Not going to be able to get to the audition I was supposed to attend tomorrow, though, and work next week may well be a problem too.  We'll have to see how the drugs work.  Bloody annoying.

Summer evening, pursuing its slow, luminous death.  The sky, a watercolour palette of fluid washes, o'er-seeing the scurrying beetles of humanity as they wind down their day.

Who are you?  And you?  What is your errand, and where your home?  What brings you to the street?  Who awaits you, wherever you're going?  Who sent you on your way?

Who would miss you, were you never to arrive?