A better dream this morning; we were in a short narrow boat, going down the Thames, about six of us, on a sort of holiday. The water was high and fast. We came to a very complicated lock, which belonged to Heston Blumenthal. He kept all his most special ingredients in one of the tunnels. He was busy complaining about some reality TV show he'd done recently. We all got out while we levered the boat onto the rollers, and Tim and I got left behind, but that was OK, because it was a Lock Festival Day, and the place was full of flowers, and children dressed as flowers, and Shit Disco were playing I know kung fu! and it was great.

I told this to Tim while he was still half asleep, and he heard that Heston was angry about having to pull all the buildings down, move them a really trivial distance and then rebuild them all again.

In other news, I still have rats! The pest guy says, "it's not unusual".

I started seriously taking the iron tablets again, which might be what's helping, I don't know. I'm still thick with worry, though.