A toilet door Monday morning. My usual train cancelled, so was unable to work on poems this morning. A bitty day at Keith's agency, and when not presenting concepts in a teleconference to a European client who sounded as if he wanted to hang himself, spent much of the afternoon trying to sort out a single headline for a campaign. Usually I have no trouble with headlines but this one emerged, as Keith observed, like someone passing a kidney stone. Listening to The girl with the dragon tattoo , which is enjoyable. Not much to report otherwise, as it was a day which after yesterday's excitement, seemed rather mundane in comparison. Below a sign to the gents at Keith's agency which has been stealthily customised, and makes me laugh.