Not myself: tired, thin-skinned, and misanthropic. Boo to humans! Kept having a fantasy about sitting on a seawall somewhere with an empty mind and a flask of hot tea and a slim volume of poems. Perhaps I will do that in Guernsey soon.

Max the Mentor asked me to lunch. Turns out she is having a torrid time in her relationship of many years. She was upset and crying somewhat. We had a glass of wine which made us both feel better. Later she told me about her recurring nightmare of people breaking into her house downstairs and defiling the place with excrement. Offered her an interpretation, which we discussed. Downstairs relating to the sub-conscious and so on...

Later Liz came to my desk and was upset too. Me and the Gnome cheered her up although it turns out I have another day of slogging in store tomorrow, redoing the work I did at the weekend. So it goes.

I have been looking forward to the world cup for a long time. Since the Buddhism retreat, however, I discover that footy is just another expression of the ocean of suffering in which we swim. Bloody typical.