The Sunday limbo has returned once more. Nothing happens in the flat. Work might get done, but mainly we sort of wander round, sit at our desks or complain about work. Thrilling.
			The characters and situations in this diary are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings. Any resemblance to such things is coincidental, or just for humourous effect. All names have been chosen to implicate the innocent.