I've been feeling too sick to eat, really, but, as usual, it dosn't feel as though I've lost any weight. I must just remember my floppy purple top, which declares I have dropped some flubber since mid-March.
I'm so knackered from the sleepless nights that I've been totally unable to sit through John Huston's FREUD, which is supposed to be a neglected masterpiece. I find it stonkingly boring and interminable, and I've conked out every time I start watching. I'll have to give up, for now.