Morning

Funny thing - living on your own. This morning, I dropped a jar of coffee which shattered on the tiled floor of the kitchen. A piece of glass cut my foot and it bled profusely. I couldn't stop the bleeding. The medical kit is kept upstairs in the bathroom and I didn't want to bleed all over the carpet on the stairs and landings. A dilemma it took me a while to resolve.

I have just opened a letter from the VAT man (revenue and customs) which a colleague brought around last night. It had been sent to my chambers (my offices) which I haven't visited in months. It seems that I owe them quite a lot of money and I have been penalized for not filling out the correct forms on time. Ann used to do all that. The demand is an estimate based on my previous earnings. Of course, I haven't been to work for five months, not since Ann became too ill for me to leave her. Oh well, I'll stick it on a credit card. Nothing seems to matter very much any more.

Friends keep inviting me to dinner and I keep turning them down. I don't know why.

I have made plans to sell the house (in England - not the one in France). I have thoughts of buying a yacht with the equity and sailing off round the world. I wonder? At the moment I just sit and do nothing.