A water proof towel

I think I’m coming down with the lurgy. It's pretty typical for me, and always happens just as the stress levels have started to come down. Bodies are funny things, aren't they?
I've sat on a sofa all day sending email after email, telling press people about the live performance of the Pepys Motet, and looking for extra singers for Oranges and Lemons. There is now a me-shaped dent in the cushion where I've been sitting.
I wish I could think of something more interesting to write. I had tomato soup for lunch and haven’t seen a decent piece of fruit or a vegetable in what seems like weeks.

At about 2pm I went to the laundrette and watched my clothes going round and round in a tumble drier. I called my mother who's not yet recovered from her accident a few weeks ago and I feel sad that she's in such a pickle.

My friend Nicky has my hat and scarf. She's taken them hostage. I left them there on Sunday after a delightful lunch and evening of game playing. When we returned to the car, however, we found our second parking ticket of the week. Apparently you're not allowed to park on Nicky's street on a Sunday between the hours of 2 and 4! And so the councils continue to print money...

Very shortly I shall clean out the Tyndarids and I may then try and pick Nathan up from work. Well, it gets me out of the house...

I've had two baths today. The second was hotter than the first, but the weather is so horrible that I soon felt damp and cold again.

All my socks have vanished and there is no soap in the house. I washed myself with shampoo earlier. My towel didn't dry me properly. It's green and blue and seems to be made out of a water proof fabric. I do not like my towel.

If you're still awake, let me tell you about Pepys, who was all over London today, eating in a fish restaurant with a bloke who didn’t eat fish, scrutinising an organ that Sandwich had had set up in his dining room, which he described as “ugly”, having a lute lesson with one Mr Evans, and then journeying to his father’s house. It was here that he discussed his sister, Pall (Paulina), who was a great embarrassment to Pepys. The poor woman was often described as something of a lummox; a plain girl, growing old and with little allure. Pepys was forever trying to get her married off, but felt that no man in his right mind would want her. She was living in Pepys’ father’s country house and Pepys discussed the possibility of bringing her to London to live with him... not as a sister, sadly, but... and wait for this... as his servant! So so shocking...