I haven't drawn at all, today. Must doodle, at least.
I've got the usual Sunday night abdabs of dread, while waiting to talk to my mother.
Strange dreams included rioting and looting in Trafalgar Square. Was I re-living the Poll Tax barney? ...
I didn't see much. I was at work, and a lot of people came running past the stage door. A young couple came in asking us to call an ambulance. They were all scuffed up, and the boy had a badly twisted ankle. The fireman give them the once over, and a stagehand who was going home gave them a lift to A&E.
Everything was quiet by the time I went home, but the street was full of broken glass.