Ummm.

I'm stuck. I'm almost lost for words - but it's not that dramatic. I just have nothing of interest to write. I've looked at the news and although the stories are important, I'm not fuming about any of them. Last night I tutored a small and adorable kid in English - that was fun but not much to write home about there. No major public transport incidents to report - although this morning I did sit next to a woman who coughed solidly for the entire thirty minute journey from Hammersmith to King's Cross. I wrapped my scarf around my face, turned my face away from her and tried to breathe shallowly to minimise inhalation but if I don't catch something I'll eat my hat, scarf and treasured striped Benetton wristwarmers. People like that should be quarantined/imprisoned on a more permanent basis. It's so unbelievably selfish - I was almost at the point where I felt the onset of hatred. But really, overall, nothing to report, nothing rantworthy, nothing of note. Maybe it's because I'm in a good mood - perhaps I'm only inspired by vitriol. That's certainly something to discuss in therapy...