The pattern of it

Sitting down to this properly tonight.

Constipation, which I have avoided writing about for six weeks out of pure squeamishness. It is the thing making me most miserable and I have said nothing about it to anybody. That seems worth noticing.

Bad week and I am writing it down anyway, because a journal that only contains the good weeks would be a lie and no use to anybody reading it later.

Tide out.