For the first time since January, I'm on a pause between work. I've got a tiny bit of actual work to do (amendments to second book, since you ask, ta very much), but everything else is waiting for people to get back to me.
It feels weird. I have nothing to do.
Yesterday took an entire day off - pottered round Soho with Lee, walked through some parks, took in a matinee, bought cable from Maplin and instantly regretted it (what is this boy urge? why do I now have an entire crate full of semi-abandoned s-vhs to phono leads?).
Last night I sat up till oh-fuck-oh-clock drinking whisky, chainsmoking and watching DVDs. This morning I woke up late and watched Alias with a hangover. And suddenly, just as Sydney Bristow disguised herself as Anna Espinoza disguised as Sydney Bristow (more painkillers now!)... suddenly, I realised the downside of this sudden leisure time:
I have absolutely no excuse not to go to the gym. Arse.