Managed to dress myself appropriately today, which was nice. And on the train began to write poems this morning for the first time in weeks.

Took a brief for a car pitch that I will be working on. Had to confess to my colleagues that I could not drive, a newsflash they put a brave face on. I worked on a truck account once, however, and was told that I really knew trucks, which I was very proud of having only ever driven a fairground dodgem. In fact I have sat severally in the driving seats of stationary trucks feigning expertise and gripping the wheel with narrowed eyes.

Worked in a frenzy attempting to pack everything into a few hours. Then back to Brighton to the Hospital for grumbling prostate, which has settled down quite a bit now, and so they told me to go away, which was good. Although I was warned that it may be prone to the odd door-slamming tantrum from time to time.

In the waiting room I noticed an aquarium with a couple of neon tetras and a catfish in it. The tank emitted a persistent trickling noise, which surely can't be good for all those older men with dodgy bladders.

Walked back in the rain, and found myself inexorably in the Apple shop upgrading my iPod which will add many splendours to my commute. Happily loading tunes onto it in the evening, and then popped up the road to pore with Anton over a map of our next walk. Despite the fact I'd already eaten some grilled fresh tuna, he forced me sample a bowl of Boston baked beans he'd made, which was like a wrongly sweet version of a Guernsey bean jar, although quite tasty.

After I'd eaten it he happily explained that he'd only had a tiny portion himself as he was on his Benchmark Bob inspired diet. Unlike me who had now eaten two suppers. Bah.

I am going to see Waiting for Godot with Hazel. I know the play really well, having studied it at school and re-reading it -- she contacted me today saying she was just about to score tickets. Be great fun, although of course nothing happens in it.

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