Next weekend is Sunken Dymonds. I’m trying not to think about that. Unsuccessfully, unfortunately.

I’m trying to find something to do on the Saturday night. There are some great things going on - of course there are, it’s London.

I imagine, though, that when it comes down to it I’ll stay at home, drink too much wine and feel sorry for myself - closely followed by getting angry with myself for giving into ridiculous and unjustified self pity.

Yay me.