Elsewhere

Sometimes, reading the Sunday papers feels like an exercise in taunting yourself, a window onto a world of lives that are far more interesting than your own.

Sometimes you're not in the mood for colluding with the idea that reading a review is the same as seeing the latest films, reading the greatest books or going to all the best gigs, shows and plays.

I was most definitely not in the mood for it today.

Today, I felt like I was a schoolboy again, on the very final Sunday of the summer holidays, fascinated by Stars On Sunday just because it meant not thinking about school. I was looking for distractions everywhere - was Stars On Sunday still on, these days? - but finding none.

Later I might suggest we go out for a walk, maybe get some lunch. But after that, the afternoon and evening seemed both too long to fill, and too short to put tomorrow out of my mind.

And I certainly didn't want to think about tomorrow.

The first day back at work.



Story begins here.