"How are you doing?" asked Jenny in the corridoor. "Um - ok," I said. I must have been unconvincing. "All recovered now, are you?" she persisted. "Yes, I'm much better," I said. It's um-ok or an hour's whining at the moment and I really don't want to go into all that not her not now, but I drew some of it down into a doodle here which is healthy I suppose.



Back at work. They've replaced the toilet that wouldn't flush with one that persistently gets blocked. I really did think toilets were a solved problem but oh well. None of my plants are dead. Not much joy getting any comics done at the moment. It's motivational, I think.



More nightmares. Initially they had a sort of Cronenbergish charm, but right now I just want an uninterrupted night's sleep.

Updates:

Wolves in the Walls = brilliant
New Compost Bin = capacious
Decent hoodie/cardigan = completely undiscoverable
To my boy = some consolation
This week's Torchwood = marginally better











But maybe that's no surprise.