"All too concise and too clear..."

A voice in my tired, over-stretched, little head has been growing louder of late, telling me to get out of London. Not for good, I still very much wish to take up my place at the London School of Economics for however long and continue my unusual academic odyssey but as I hear of friends going off on trains around Europe, to India and elsewhere, something inside of me (not envy you understand, but a kind of acute pathos) repeatedly asks if I really want to hang around Wimbledon all summer.

Yesterday an exploded biro destroyed a number of the clothes in my laundry bag and I saw the semi-famous comedians, Russell Howard and Dave Gorman (in the case of the former, for the second week running). You see, there are many advantages to London's suburbs but, in some ways, I'm already too weary to enjoy them; things like that biro incident (Pengate) keep occurring.

I have 18,000 words to write and a broken muse, at least where Literature is concerned. If I don't get this done, I won't be going to the LSE... or anywhere else much, for the matter.

I am worried.