Chips with everything

I've just had a lovely dinner with Ellie in Soho, after an equally lovely pot of tea for two followed by a walk with Fiona. The two over-lapped briefly as we picked Ellie up from Old Broadcasting House. Fiona was heading off to a rehearsal with Placebo. We ate in an Italian in restaurant on Old Compton Street. Ellie had pizza, I had pasta, and we shared a bowl of chips, a salad and a lemon tart!

It's raining and my feet are soaking wet. It seems I must embrace the concept of always having soggy feet, as I don't possess a pair of shoes without holes. I don't think I ever will, as it seems no matter how much money I spend on footwear, I've trashed whatever I buy within days. I walk funny and have wide, flat feet: what more can I say?

I got up even earlier than normal today, determined to do a full morning's work on the Pepys Motet. The mornings are cold at the moment, however, and the boiler had stopped working, which meant there was no hot water. On the bright side, I found a tenner in my dressing gown, so felt fairly pleased with myself as my gnashers chattered! 

I'm taking a few days away from researching the musical so that what I've learned so far can begin to sink and thoughts about the show itself can start to surface. These thoughts  might lead me in a specific direction for the last few days of information gathering. I feel I have a firm grounding in the subject, however, and will be more than ready to start the writing process in early October when I'm back from the trenches. 

Our war against the moths continues. Nathan, in a fit of pique, has now boiled all of his socks. Sadly some of the colours have run, but there's not going to be eggs or nasty larvae anywhere in sight. He's made little pockets for the drawers, soaked in a blend of lavender, cedar and rosemary oils - which we're told the moths hate - and his stash of yarn has been stuck in bags and put in the freezer. Boil em. Freeze em. Drown em. Suffocate em. Smoke em out. These moths must die!