I have had a headache for the past three days. Nothing bad, just annoying when I’m trying to do other things. It’s like the top of my skull is in a vice, and it’s slowly being tightened. Paracetamol helps, but I’m not a fan of doping myself up unless I really need to.

It occurs to me that it might just be itchy feet. Until yesterday, I had no plans to go anywhere. When I was in Paris, I would never make a trip without knowing that I had the next train tickets booked. I like having one place to call home, but I like travelling too. If things where you are are good, you can savour the anticipation of an exciting trip; if they’re bad, then you’ve gt something to look forward to. Yesterday, though, I booked theatre tickets so that I’d have to head off again. It’s not for another couple of weeks though, so until then I’m stuck in London.

This is, on reflection, perhaps not such a bad thing. I haven’t got much on for the next few weeks and the flat is in dire need of a top to bottom clean out.