Basked in some sunlight this morning waiting for the tube at Kew Gardens Station and realised that my unspeakable miasma of depression had melted away. Likeable day at the agency where I paraded about like a fop. Then shot off into town with Spooner, Mel and Steve. Had a good lunch and hectored two guys in a meeting afterwards for having the barefaced cheek to offer us some good advice. Spooner particularly glinty-eyed with his little red "devil" badge pinned on his denim jacket pointing out a greengrocer's apostrophe in their copy as an icebreaker.

Walrussed about again today in the swimming pool, as my inner sumo is trying to express itself. It's climbing into a 25 metre pool and seeing the water level rise that upsets me.

Listening to Mahler fifth symphony -- the wonderful adegietto.

Went to my mountebank on Wednesday morning and they are going to give me a 24hr blood pressure test. Boo. Being a complete hypochondriac I have white coat syndrome so every time my blood pressure is taken it is higher than it should be. This makes me feel even more stressed when they take it, which contributes to an escalation of neurosis on my part, which feeds into increasingly ridiculous readings. So they are trying to find out what my real blood pressure is like, and I will probably spend the whole 24hours stressed.

Mind you my doctor is the best GP I've ever had. Empathy is a great gift in almost every profession and she just makes me feel calm. Empathy for a writer too, of course, is essential. And I can tell you've had enough of this now.