I’m having a whole series of strange, disjointed dreams this past week. I almost said ‘enjoying’, and would have if the cumulative effect wasn’t enervating and, very slightly, disorientating.

For one thing, I’m always younger in my dreams and it’s awfully good to be striding through fields and forests rather than shuffling along looking for safe points to lodge my stick. And it’s certainly the only way I get to walk up a mountain.

It’s a combination of inactivity and unsuitable diet, I suspect. No great issue. It’ll pass, and the only reason I record it is because that’s what I do. Record things.