I've been up, I've been down, I've been fair-to-middling.
And I've been writing letters. None of which will get posted. Not because what's in them is wrong or bad but more that I feel that the people they are for won't want to read them. Perhaps it's just an attack of low self-esteem but I really don't feel like what I have to say is terribly important to the people whose opinions matter to me.
Perhaps I'll feel better about it tomorrow, I don't know. I'm sure at least one letter will go this week: the most necessary one. No, not for 'never-to-be' (that's a letter I doubt will ever get sent), this is to a person in some ways much more important. And it's not going well.
Ahh bollocks. I've had enough of my angst. Raking over the coals of my soul is something I just can't be bothered with today.
So here's an amusing clip from Britain's youngest curmudgeon, Charlie Brooker: