Lately I’ve been ignoring my own advice to always keep a pad of paper and a pen handy, which makes no sense as I know full well I tend to think about writing when I’m in bed, about shopping when I’m at the computer and so on.

So the other night I eventually got out of bed in the early hours and crept downstairs to write down the vital few sentences that had been eluding me all day.  I had to use a thick felt tip so I could vaguely make out what I was writing in the light from the street lamps.  Putting on a light would have been too much of a shock to a semi-comatose sleepwalker.

Today as I tackled my emails I had the brilliant idea of taking the coolbag and ice packs to Bath so I could stock up on my favourite Waitrose stem ginger ice cream, which is on special offer.  But it was one of those brainwaves that zoom in and out too fast to record, and I was halfway to Bath before I realised the coolbag was still in the kitchen.  Just as well, as A isn’t around tonight and I might well have taken sly advantage of his absence to eat a whole tub for supper, instead of the nutritious local vegetables from the box that was delivered today.

I digress.  From now on I’m sticking to my advice and equipping myself with pen and paper everywhere.