Not had much sleep this week. Combination of factors. I went to sleep at 1am on Wednesday morning having larked around at the CNN election party in a Trump mask, then did that silly thing of waking up at 4am and thinking ‘Oooh, I’ll just have a squizz at Twitter and check it’s all gone to plan.’ So I checked Twitter, realised the world was on fire all over again and got up to watch it unfold with a milky cup of tea.
Also, I perhaps *slightly* ambitiously emailed my agent last week promising that I’d send her 85,000 of my finished ‘novel’ this week. And then, like some sort of unstoppable moron, I decided to make big changes to the entire thing, so I’ve been getting up at ludicrous hours to tinker with it. Still, as I’ve said before, it took Tolstoy six years to write War and Peace so I have a bit of time to continue thrashing about with my sex scenes at 6.30am every morning in Pret. Tolstoy would totally get it.
I’m quite tired now as a result so going to yoga this evening to bend a bit and then going home to catch up with The Missing and watch the last part of The Fall. Big Friday night. Someone just told me I should watch this final episode at least an hour before going to bed. But honestly I think I’ll pass out irrespective. Real life has been pretty scary this week anyway, right?