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Today: gym then work then off to a charity talk.

I woke up at six am today, as the bells in the church next door rang. And that was it - wide awake. I lay there for the next 45 minutes, trying my very hardest to get back to sleep, but to no avail. So I got up and went to the gym. I was very smug until about 10.30 when my energy levels went through the floor, and now I'm struggling to focus (hence the blog update). I went to bed after midnight last night as well, so am really quite dopey now. In rebellion at my healthy start to the day, lunch was a cheese croissant, chicken soup and chocolate. Cha cha cha. Only nine days until I go to Thailand and I'm packin' on the blubber.

Despite working slap bang in the middle of the City, I missed all the protests yesterday, and in fact didn't experience any interruption to my working day whatsoever. Darn it. The only things out of the ordinary were that (a) I was allowed to wear jeans to work and (b) as I was walking past St Paul's early yesterday morning, a cavalcade of beautiful police horses came trotting along the road. Some of the scenes from the news at 10 last night were quite scary, but it was all very peaceful round my neck of the woods.

Think I'm going to go to Portobello Market on Saturday with my friend G. I've never actually been, and feel I should, although I'll probably waft around singing "Portobello Roooooad, Portobello Rooooooad" from Bedknobs and Broomsticks as I do whenever I hear the word Portobello, no matter whether in the market or mushroom sense.

Aren't brains weird. Why does that always come into my head? In the same way that whenever I go to London Victoria station, I start mentally singing "Vic-TOR-IA" to the tune of "Notorious" (as in B.I.G.). Or whenever I'm running without my iPod I start whistling the tune of "Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly". Or whenever I'm on a plane I get "Three Hours" by Nick Drake stuck in my head. Bizarro.


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