Speeding up the M11

You know when you get to the tube and narrowly miss the Bank

Branch train and realise that the next one is due in six minutes' time and you think "damn, I could have had another five minutes in bed?" That. 

At the moment I'm wondering if I'll ever get enough sleep. Still, on the slightly brighter side, I'm definitely feeling considerably better than I did yesterday. Still aching all over, but I can deal with that. 

I've changed tack when it comes to tubing into work in the rush hour. I now listen to music. Quite why doing this never occurred to me before, I've no idea. If you stand on a crowded platform whilst listening to Irene Cara's "What a Feeling" from Flashdance, you can easily convince yourself that you're in a film, and that the hundreds of people around you are all part of a celluloid musical world you ultimately control. One little click and anything troublesome to the eye can be edited out of sight! 

With the help of music, everyone looks more intriguing. I watched one woman with blonde hair and brown roots filing her nails whilst listening to The Winner Takes it All, and the whole episode became a mini soap opera in my head. She was filing her nails to take away the pain of a recent break-up. Today was the day she was going to shake her blonde locks free and face the world without crying. She became quite defiant as Agnetha sang those two epic phrases at the end of the song, but then, somehow, the pain returned. 

You should all try it one day. It's great fun. Hear the song. Find the person it's about and tell their story! The only issue I can see with me doing this every morning is that music tends to make me either want to dance or sing, and people tend to think that's a bit weird!

I wonder if there's money to be made from tube Callenetics? Real subtle weight-busting exercises that people can do whilst London crowds around them. I guess if nothing else, ladies, it's a good time to practise those pelvic floor exercises.  

Another day of editing. We worked til 8pm and Louise will carry on for another hour, just to get something in a format which can be sent for viewing by the BBC execs in Manchester. My father is out of hospital and apparently feeling perky. We're speeding up to Essex to pay homage with a box of chocolates. All is good.