Lovely sunny morning and positively cheery rattling up to London with Reuben on the acid rain talking of many and diverse matters. Stepping onto the platform at Victoria a trace of burning brimstone in the air and we noticed Spooner choking down a gasper. We three sloped along briefly. I mentioned my trip to Yeats's grave to S and as he was coming up with some erudite allusion, I wondered (not aloud for fear of getting an answer) what the collective noun for three hacks slouching off to do our filthy business in town would be. A flourish? A gloom? A sore?

Work itself not bad. I wrote copy, and left on time. In the morning I got caught up in a spate of lateral thinking about what I could do with myself, which made me feel cheerful. In the afternoon I rejected a brief. It's excitement like this that keeps me going.

Suggested to Andy and Mike that they were in fact gnomes as they come from Cornwall and Wales respectively and they should get back down their tin mines like the pixie half-breeds that they were. Nobody rose to bait though, which was a bit tiresome.

Email from First Matie who was bored.

Missing MJ who has been training for her new job all day.

Still hobbling piratically due to rubbish ankle.

Home and rehydrating shrivelled and raisin-like kidneys with mineral water. Ate healthy stir fry. Mucked about with my photos of New York and added them to my sixth fingers site here. Phoned mum and talked at some length about wide-ranging matters.