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I didn’t really get up today. I got out of bed at 11.10am then I footled around picking away at bits. In fact it was a bitty day.

There are things to do. I’m not quite ready to do them. Maybe I should just do stories, memoirs on here till I am a cheerier Penny.

I’ll think about that. Work on the memoir (official) has begun in a slightly faltering way. But as I remember and savour and look at my journals ( 30 years of ’em!) I smile. Anais Nin, a great influence you know and I suppose I have to go for glaring omissions too until everyone dies. We’ll see. Shame I don’t have the rich husband funding my erotic antics…

Oh well. Back to daily grind. The horror unfolding with the Con-Dems. Some of their spouting is truly shocking and has frightening echoes from history. Ferals, immigrants, scroungers… all to blame. Not much mention of banks and the ultra rich.

No wonder I’m wavering in a depressive phase.

Someone will drag me back from the abyss, they always do.