10am I was dragged from what I vaguely recollect being quite a nice dream by the damn telephone. I'd got to bed around 4am after being suckered into clicking on a pop up ad that took me to a site for laser eye surgery - facinating, but sleep would have been healthier. So I shamble to the phone and it's M my 'soul mate', you know, the one I want to shag senseless but am too frightened to ask.

We were supposed to be at a car boot sale (English 'boot' = US 'trunk') at midday. This basically involved me in driving twenty miles, picking him and a load of old rubbish up and driving another twenty miles to a muddy field and selling said crap to strangers who probably wouldn't want it anyway. It was drizzling. I made feeble excuses and went back to bed.

4pm I wake up. Really depressed. I don't normally get depressed, and consequently don't handle it too well. I'm rude to all an sundry, and not even the cats aren't talking to me now.

Oh well.

Camy