It is the end of the weekend and I'm not sure I'm any less tired than I was at the start of it. I feel flat and sad and would rather like to just go to bed and stay there for a while, but also to be somewhere different and not in the same place I've been in for very nearly all of the last 15 months.

Possibly I shouldn't have listened to the latest series of John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme twice in the last week. It is utterly brilliant, and really needs a careful second listen (essentially, it's like a Kate Atkinson novel a radio comedy sketch show, with all the sketches building up a complicated story that only really makes sense at the end), and there were bits which made me chortle with glee when I was listening, but I don't think it's helped the melancholy mood really.

Five more days at work, and then I have a week off and no more five-day weeks until the middle of September.