It's quarter to 3, and David's just informed me that he has a doctor's appointment in an hour. He starts the conversation with "I'm just gonna make some tea (AKA: Do you want your bucket filled?)", so as to appear generous, and then checks that I can stay late until he gets back.

Why oh why oh why didn't he ask me yesterday instead of an hour before he's off? I ask him every week if he's OK with our normal hours and every week he says yes. If it was his day to work until half 4 he'd be off by ten past.

As he hobbled down the metal steps I found myself wondering whether that huge belly would cusion his fall or make it harder, what with the extra weight. I hope this never happens, because it would be a hilarious sight and people might get the wrong impression if my immediate reaction involves an outburst of laughter. I would still be concerned, it would just be funny.

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I've realised that sweet songwriter music is the right thing for working here. Now it's the turn of Sufjan Stevens' 'Illinoise', which I think is good but far too long.