Pants

I’ve established a good regime this year. I spend the mornings composing in a cafe in Highgate. The change of scene makes concentration easier but the cafe makes me smell of cigarette smoke, which is slightly surreal because no one smokes in there. I compose on my computer and block out the sound of musak with a pair of enormous 1970s headphones, which Nathan lent to me. I feel a bit ashamed wearing them, not least because they’re reminiscent of the earphones I had to wear as a child when we went to see the fireworks. Unfortunately, the loud bangs made me scream and fill my pants. Shameful.

After lunch I go to the gym. Today was miserable because I forgot my trainers, so had to swim instead of doing all the proper stuff. Add to this the unfortunate experience of meeting a pair of twerps in the forecourt, who skipped the queue for parking spaces, and responded like a proper pair of Gangstas, telling me to “chill” when I suggested they might be in the wrong.

After the gym, I go back to work, more often than not at home. Today I’ve been sitting on the same sofa for 8 hours. It’s 11.30pm and I’m trying to fill in the Arts Council application form. It’s taking forever and I’m already knackered.

It wasn’t a hugely interesting day for Mr Pepys. Much of his entry was concerned with the sending and not sending of letters, which never makes for particularly good reading. He shared a drink with a barber and then a seaman, had more drinks paid for by one Mr Billingsly and enjoyed listening to a man playing a Welsh harp at the Half Moon Pub.

Now it's time for me to eat a chocolate chip cookie. I wish I could say "and so to bed" but I think I'm going to be up with this form for some hours yet!