I write this to you from my bed. Getting myself an early night, aren’t I. Probably to avoid dealing with all the things I actually should be dealing with. Like the ever-building workload that I should be chipping away at whenever I can. Like the biggest to-be-eBayed pile ever seen. Like the fact that I’m feeling homesick approximately 92% of the time. Like the fact that it’s getting cold and the gym is, like, all the way over there. Like the tantrum I had today about M&S discontinuing my favourite bread (I left breadless and in a super-seeded strop, let’s face it). Like the fact that I need, in short, to SORT MY LIFE OUT. All begging-to-be-avoided tripe, clearly. So yes, instead of facing all that, here I am in bed with frankly the finest selection of printed media known to man. Don’t mind me.