Tonight's Little Preoccupations.

I’m not as old as Patrick Stewart and I have more hair than him.

The number 0 can be pretty horrible.

I prefer jeans and sweaters to posh frocks (on women, that is.)

I saw Sarah drop onto my blog tonight when I happened to have the Feedjit Live Update page open. That was good. I thought of parachutes.

I want to be invited as a guest onto The One Show, so I can say ‘What, that crap? Give over!’

Visits from New York still have a curiously electric effect on me.

My immature side continues to throw me off balance sometimes.

The world is run by young souls for young souls.

The actors’ parties I used to attend were never wild. I suppose that’s because they obtained emotional release through their work, unlike students, celebrities, businessmen, most teenagers etc, etc.

I’m completely intolerant of immodesty in women and lasciviousness in men. It’s to do with self and mutual respect.

I never understood why I chose the parents I did.

My muse isn’t talking to me tonight. She’s sitting in her accustomed place glaring at me. She told me her name’s Griselda, but I think she was winding me up.

I’ve had to use expensive electricity to dry my laundry, since the drizzle has hardly stopped for two days.

I still entertain the hope that the goddess will turn up one day demanding obeisance.

Cats and I remain mutually suspicious.

This could go on and on. Time for bed.