An elegant bespectacled Japanese lady is sitting opposite me in the British Library restaurant. I'm guessing she's in her fifties. I'm eating my salad, reading the G2, when out the corner of my eye I glean she's pointing her cameraphone at her lunch. She notices me notice and with a shy laugh of embarrassment tells me in halting English that she's sending a photo to her family, to show them what she's eating over here. I thought I clocked cabbage, potato salad, tomato and baked beans on her plate. It felt impolite to study it too closely.
I wrote a half-decent scene for Everything Must Go yesterday, but coming to work today I can find absolutely no trace of it on my computer. Though I'm not wildly well organised this has never happened to me before. It's disorienting and mildly upsetting. After what seemed like hours scouring the hard drive for the scene, I must now try and recover it from the soft drive of my brain.