SW14

A week later in London. It would be nice to think this was some kind of self-examination. It's not. I've had my hair cut and blow-dried, and briefly feel I might fit into the smart chic of west London. I'm trying to record for prosperity. It doesn't last and my two pairs of jeans, ripped t-shirts and trainers can't live up to it anyway.

I'm finishing work and spending hours on the internet to find out what's going on. And not leaving the house much. Luckily, this suits Sara not too badly either: confined in the house with a very determined sleepless bairn. We all have someone other than sulking Hobbs to talk to.