Things that people do when self-consciously observed on public transport:

:: Fake a yawn

:: Blush

:: Frown (or blush and frown combo)

:: Pick a fight

:: Pick at non-existent bits of fluff on clothing

:: Check mobile for non-existent messages

:: Bite nails

:: Scrutinise overhead adverts

:: Develop a thousand yard stare

:: Stare back

Maybe a phone call is all it'll take to get London moving in the right direction again.

Horror. Enjoyed previously vile tube journey into work this morning. Suddenly realised that it was great to be overground, and that clanking past the back of town houses in their graffitied cladding reminded me of arriving in foreign cities in the early hours of the morning on some grumbly old train.

Not sure how this has bypassed me for the last four weeks. Not sure how long I will be charmed by it. Possibly until the next time some Hammersmith and City line driver decides to pop out of his cab for a cup of tea and leave me stranded for 20 minutes.

Hope’s a funny thing. Growing up on my parents’ farm, I got used to seeing dead animals - kittens, rats, pigs. But whenever I found a creature that was still living, I always picked it up and took it home.

Tiny, fragile baby birds that had fallen out of their nests, with their funny pink bodies, outsized heads and huge black eyes that had never been opened or seen. I’d put the bird in a box, filled with cotton wool, checking back all the time that it was still breathing.

All the while I believed that this time would be different, and it would be OK. Such delicate little things, much like hope itself.

How old were you, when you first understood the concept of war? And how old were you when you first understood the concept of wanking?

Come and go in Soho.

Now that all tennis-playing plans have been lobbed out of the window due to sudden and unexpected onset of sore throat (thanks to whichever so-called friend gave it to me, you know who you are), I've got to thinking about those perverse yet enjoyable moments in life. Hmm. Where is this thread going. Examples:

:: Really crunchy toast on a sore throat. Also crisps (any flavour)

:: Lemon juice on a paper cut

:: Flat Coke on a dodgy tummy

:: Any citrus fruit on a mouth ulcer

:: A raspberry pip stuck between two teeth

So do excuse me while I go to empty the contents of my fridge on my body.

Last night I dreamed that water was dripping through the ceiling of my bedroom. Too lazy to get up I convinced myself that it was creaking floorboards. No evading it, it was water dripping through the ceiling. A man in a fluorescent jacket knocked on my door to say that the man upstairs had a Mercedes, a cracking-new if leaking kitchen and that I should sue him for a paint job. It was 4am.

Late light, low-slung shoulders, polar lifestyles.

Even tiny mouse steps can be recorded.