Monday 9th August

It's so nice to wake up in a proper bed. K says I'm being soft and should bear in mind that I've only stayed in a tent for two consecutive nights, when lots of people sleep on the ground for much longer periods, even at little music festivals. Either way, I feel suitably refreshed and even head into work a little early to get on with the business of the week. Once again we're more or less on top of things at work at the moment - which makes a pleasant change from recent weeks - and the morning passes mostly uneventfully.

I say mostly, because for a good portion of the morning I am typing through gritted teeth and at one point even announce to my boss that I intend to resign. This is all because, as I've mentioned before, we work across the road from a well-regarded theatre school - which is packed full of terrible, grinning, deluded little idiots doing degrees in Musical Theatre. To be honest I'd rather work over the road from an Al-Qaeda training camp.

This morning they are practising the same grating 'showtune' over and over again - music which is apparently taught with the adage that "louder is better". It's a warm day and so all their windows are open, as are all of ours. We work in a very quiet office, so everything I do is soundtracked by their awful, earnest, screeching pointless racket. Amazingly, the boss even goes over there to ask them to close their windows as people are actually trying to work nearby. They counter by saying that the windows need to be kept open as two of the students have already fainted this morning. Fuck's sake.

Anyway, after work I head down the Passage to meet K for festival-delayed shopping. I am a bit early and get started alone, sticking closely to K's carefully-prepared shopping list - before having my efforts criticised and augmented later on. We grab the makings of a curry and head home to Rogan Josh up before episode 3 of the new Mad Men.