Porridge for the early worm

Slept appallingly and ended up getting out of bed at six, eating porridge and feeling spuriously got at by everything. Made tea for Lorraine and I and sat on the bed drinking it feeling dire before I set off.

Lots of twitter and email action by the time I reached work, in the aftermath of last night's gig. Robin pleased, and some friendly banter. A designer sitting opposite me called Brendon bought a copy of The Nightwork, and he says he reads lots of poetry. There are people out there who do that.

Work enjoyable, despite feeling literally faint with tiredness. Working with nice people helps. I like Fernanda, the Brazilian art director. She showed me, in between looking for reference material, pictures of baby alpacas on google.

Beth and John at home tonight after Beth had spent the day rehearsing her ugly sister role. Lorraine had made roasted veg and chicken with couscous. Spent time sorting out a timesheet for the last place I was working in, then repaired to bed at ten.

The sheer joy of bed when you are exhausted is hard to express.

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