Last night, I worked despite the agony of the eyestrain which was like trying to write and draw with football boots inside my eyeballs. It accounts for the lack of something written today and only two half-sketched drawings, which just about sum up how I’m feeing. It’s a ugly day here in Manchester. The grey light and the dreadful gloom of this great carnivorous city: it does nothing to lighten my mood. It is always a sign of how I’m feeling when I wear my favourite sweater from Millets. Build for Arctic conditions, the only action it gets to see is to wrap me in its deep embrace on these cold dark morning. Even Molesworth 1 and the cruelty he inflicted on Molesworth 2 wasn’t enough to cheer me up on the commute into work.