>It’s blowing a hooley here today (tho’ it’s worse in Kensal Rise) , so naturally we decided to have a go at building the shed. No go. We ended up moving bookshelves – doing that thing of finding unread books, and books about learning to play bass guitar, and out of date plumbing how-to books (“first hollow your log”), and travel guides to places you never did get to.

I’m meant to be writing up the structure of the play for Birmingham. It’s killing me. It just won’t lie down. The deadline is 18th December, which is closer than it sounds. It was important to move it forward today, so I’ve vacuumed through downstairs and washed the lounge curtains. I’m such a cliché.

Spoke to my mate D on the phone about writing. She’s willing to talk, to read or to bully if it will help – but I need to sort this. There’s a big chunk (?) of negativity that needs moving. Where’s your psychic crowbar when you need it?