Thanks to Dave, who has just emailed to point out that he's seen no evidence that I've done work on the play for 48 hours.

In fact, that's exactly what I've just been doing. OK, so I wasn't sat at my desk, but I was out walking the dog. This is a highly congenial writing environment, even if it does impose some contraints on the writer: one cannot, for example, actually physically write anything down while being pulled around Richmond by a large munsterlander. It doesn't half get the brain going, though, and I reckon I've done an hour's useful work. Dickens used to swear by long walks to aid the creative process, so I'm in rather distinguised company in this thinly-veiled form of copping out.

You won't hear much from me tomorrow, as I'm off to Leeds to see the RSC's Lear. Maybe a few good habits will rub off on m