I was making pancakes last night for dinner (something I am craving regularly now), when the 10 o clock news on Radio 4 informed me of the death of Nick Clarke. I, quite unexpectedly, burst into tears, especially as I began to remember that he and his wife had two small boys (one memorably named Bendy, I believe). I don't know why I have this reaction to the news of the death of someone I have never met (seeing the headline about Lynda Smith whilst travelling through Coventry on a bus had a similar reaction), but it does seem to happen.

On the work front, very little is getting done. I still feel totally blocked. I started something new, but I've no idea at all where it's going. However, an impromptu entire song (pretty much) showed up on Tuesday night, which I'm working to finish and am thinking about taking to an open mic night in the near future. It did, however, show me how long it's been since I'd played acoustic guitar. My fingers were so sore afterwards and, three days later, the index finger is still very obviously numb (I've had problems fretting with this finger since I sliced the end off it two years ago).

However, I am thinking a lot more than I have been in the past, and am coming up with various projects outside the music to get up to, most of which involve getting back into my writing. I look forward to it.

On a similar happy note, I almost fit back into all the clothes I ate my way out of in the months leading up to my final exams thanks to a very very careful eating plan. However, the backlash is that I stood in my kitchen for 15 minutes just now, trying to work out what to eat, with no success. I went shopping last night, so the cupboard is stocked and, more importantly, so is the fridge. But sweet things are making me feel really sick, including too much fruit, and I don't feel like anything I have that's savoury. Gargh.