My head hurts. Note to self: don't try and keep up with film industry types. And go home earlier from after-work drinks.
At some stage last night there was an incident involving my shin and a low stone wall. If I ignore it, will it go away?
The weather is shite. It's almost as if summer looked at Bristol and went, 'Nah, too much like hard work, I'm off''.
Michelle Obama deserves to be inducted into Fashion's Hall of Fame. Her classic, understated style rocks. English women, take note.
Boots' super-duper paracematol doesn't work. Even when you exceed the recommended dose.
The Icelanic volcano has stopped; we are crossing everything on our persons that the ash cloud doesn't reappear before our flight tomorrow.
This morning I left the house without my ability to string together a coherent sentence. Today my energy and concentration levels would rival those of a particularly inactive sloth. I have a ton of work to do and certain people suddenly seem enamoured of the word 'deadline'. I need to pull finger instead of faffing around with this blog.
Speaking of which, I will be off blog for a few days because there is no internet access where we are staying. Have a great weekend, wherever in the world you are...