Managed to reboot my sense of humour today, which was handy. Apart from doing all my weekend work all over again to a different brief, it was a dullfest of slogging at copy hour after hour. The Gnome kept busy too.

However I did go swimming again, which I am loving. It calms me and I find myself noticing the support of the water and find myself almost relaxing into it.

Otherwise not much to report. I went to watch a colleague smoke a cigarette outside by the bins and was told about her wrangles with an ex boyfriend who owes her money. Meanwhile she is holding his furniture hostage. In between the slogging, I seem to attracting confessions and being sought out as a source of reassurance this week. Funny how that helps your own state of mind. I have been feeling a tad wobbly but it has helped me to reassure others. Ultimately reassuring other people is heard just as much, if not more, by you as the person you are reassuring.

American Craig called me up with a random poetry question as I was coming home.

There's a bag in my yard which I started it as a sort of repository for peelings and bits of green rotting things I have yanked from the front garden and so on. Trouble is that it is suddenly giving off such a astonishing, Twitten-stunning aroma that I thought my drains had ruptured. I need to do something.

Like go to bed.