Tuesdays go from bad to worse. The flat is still in full-on food crisis. Lunch involved beans on toast, since it was the only way Mark and I could both have a bread-based lunch of any size. We were still hungry. Today was the day for Mark to have a Deep Insight, namely: 'it's a good job baked beans are orange, because if they were brown they'd look like rabbit turds'. Truly a mind of genius is at work.   The sleeping problem continues. I am spending five minutes working, followed by five minutes staring into space, thinking nothing, doing nothing. I am not efficient.   This afternoon Dave appeared. He had done more work than me or Mark. However, he did admit to having voices in his head telling him to miss bits out of the work. It's good to know we're all cracking up.   For dinner, we had mince. We tried to hide it by smothering it in Ragu bolognase sauce, but deep down, it was still mince. Normally I have nothing against mince, but at the moment, I have developed a passionate dislike of the little bitty meaty stuff.   After dinner, I fell asleep in my chair at the table. The only way to remain awake was to dip my head in a basin of cold water. I spent the evening doing this. I sat at my desk, with a towel around my shoulders with a small glass of brandy to keep me smiling. There are few things in life more comforting than a towel. I started off with a hand towel, but then required more comfort and move to a bath towel. Eventually even that was insufficient and I had to wrap myself in my unfeasibly large bath towel. Such is life.
			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.