It's 11.40pm and I am so tempted to run up the street and get some Chinese takeaway. I am starving to fucking death today. My eyes look like I was born about four hours ago and I'm sleepier than any hollow you could hope to wander into. Business as usual then. On the plus side, I think it's time to chill out on the food front. In 2 pounds time, I'll hit my target - if I go any lower than that, I'll probably die horribly. It's probably time that I incorporated some "exercise". Crap.

Done absolutely no writing today at all... and Ida is sick, so no blog post to link to either. I think I'll just scrap today. Mark it off in the calendar as a non-event and go to sleep. I hate non-days.