Seemed to dream all night about writing and designing brochure on, of all things, bicycles. I kept waking up during the night and realising I didn't have to do this, then fell asleep again, and took up the brochure where I'd left off. Intolerable! I woke up exhausted and as if I'd already done a day's work. Work (in the realm of wakefulness) only moderately trying. But, unreasonably, I feel that life has constricted to a pinprick; and I feel very restless and in need of a complete break.

Saw a scuffle on the tube tonight on the way home with everyone packed together like rats. Half a dozen youths jostling about and someone taking offence. Thankfully didn't get involved.

Heard a few days ago that my play Wrong had got a few laughs in Glasgow. But now, as is the way of drama, it is thin air again. Will turn my attention to revamping AnotherSun again this Easter.

Feel a great hunger for reading now. I can't imagine anything nicer than feeling relaxed enough to read ten books in a row.

Best news of the day, Mrs Kenny now coming on leaps and bounds with her leg and admitting to dancing in the kitchen today -- which she demonstrated when I got home.

Also spoke to Maddog who is going for a job at The Red House, the former home of William Morris. I hope he gets it.