Been distracted by life. Went to Alt. Fiction. Had loads of fun. Drove north to Edinburgh on a Sunday. Got angry at parking. Took Jenny to conference. Hung out with Magnulus, Bram and others. Hid in a boring hotel room writing fiction. Explored bookshops and music shops alone. Drove south on the Wednesday. Went from Grenta Services to Leicester in a one long 200 mile push listening to one My Dying Bride album. Returned to work where I worked and worked and worked. Tired, always bloody tired. Enjoying time spent with Jenny. Deciding what the point of writing fiction is again and what it should look like. Doing it. Worrying about parking the car on strange streets while I sleep in comfort. Buying lots of books. Going to a children’s book launch. Buying a DVD box set of The Story of Film. Getting confidence back. Ignoring tenses. Setting an alarm for 6:06. Knowing that the flood at work never stops and if it does that’s worse. Looking forward to a Friday night with Jenny spent watching films. Rain. Being glad I don’t have the car this weekend. Bed.