No one said what happened to the crew member whose bunk I inherited. It's an upgrade, by a window, paint included. Their dreams come to me in colours - mermaid-turquoise, beechleaf-green, octopus-purple. I paint on rice-paper, sold as memory scraps so they're remembered in this forever black.

The button is small, jewelled like a scarab. Not as worn as the others, the button I grab when the world glints askew. It is the button to use to make sure the tiny time-cracks do not grow, nor that the world keeps spinning the right way round. I don't notice the hole in my pocket this morning..

Well, that's that... Deactivated the X-twitter account. A foggy day in January seemed appropriate.

A watched pot never boils. A watched pot never boils. A watched pot never boils. Awatchedpotneverboils. Watched Pot Never Boils. Pot never boils. Never boils. Boils.

Watching a film based on a true story. Because I can't handle suspense I have ofc looked it up. Hasn't quite helped mind you...

Found my writing sweet spot. Book a train between home and London and back again. That's 3 hrs focussed writing. Have done a draft pitch and reasonable first draft of a script.

On my way to London. Have packed 2 notebooks, a laptop and charger for that lovely 1.5hrs of time. Have forgotten to pack a single pen #writerfail

Gosh, it's like being the new kid at school EXCEPT all your friends turned up early with a welcome mat!