It seems here that during the day I was busy doing something else, too busy to write anything until the evening. I think it may have been a rehearsal with scandal, because we have a gig coming up. I probably sat, tired, high, in the only empty room I could find and stared in desperation at my nemesis, the notebook. Perhaps I had a cup of tea and some biscuits to help me with a small caffeine kickstart, but it doesn't seem to have worked. Only 4 pages managed.
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