One advantage of having several time zones between you and your fiancée is that when you wake up filled with nameless dread in the middle of the night, you can go online and speak to her.

January, as I have noted severally before, is the Monday of the year. So a January Monday is a surfeit of bleakness... I had to stand in the overcrowded train this morning from Brighton to Clapham Common, thus robbing me of my writing, reading and thinking time. Don't the swine care about stifling English Letters?

Some ribaldry at work about Mark Oaten, a liberal democrat who has just withdrawn from his party's leadership contest after what he described as an "error of judgement": that of paying for sex for two years with a rent boy. Not a great look for a married father of two. Found myself entering the gents today with the Gnome. We passed large Graham who looked at us meaningfully, saying that he hoped neither of us would have an error of judgement.

Off to Paddington this afternoon with the Gnome for discussions about one of the accounts. Then managed to catch the early train home, dozing fitfully despite it being so early.

Cold night. Talked to MJ, who is very busy getting things sorted out, and Anton. It was Baby Klauds birthday today, and Anton's mum and dad had been down for it. Spoke to Remo too.

Have been sporting a hair shirt about how slack I have been about sending poems out.

Being gnawed with a Gollum-like desire for Anna's camera. I am rationalising it by thinking that if I get a nice camera, I might be able to sell some of my pics on a stock shot site, thus paying for the camera and also launching what's called, in these parts, a nice little earner. What could be easier?

Got a mysterious text from Spooner tonight saying "I have made a top film in shed "GEORGE II".