Days like vodka. Days like whiskey. Robertson Davies.

I think we all have them. I was talking to a friend the other day about working from home, and I said I thought it felt like having an afternoon of leisurely drinking with friends where you think you’re perfectly compus mentis until you actually talk to someone else and you realise you’re trollied. Like drinking vodka. Or whiskey. Actually, especially like drinking whiskey and ending up two worlds to the left.

This is one of those days. It’s like when you’re looking after a small child and you see no-one else. When you run into human company, you’re practically foaming at the mouth, you just don’t know it. Hair matted, bug-eyed and hopping all over the jungle, but you think you’re talking like David Niven. Simile, simile, simile. Dennis Hopper.

Which doesn’t really take us seamlessly into Robertson Davies, but there you go. I’ve been reading The Cornish Trilogy and it’s fantastic. Intelligent, wise and very human. I’d also recommend the Deptford trilogy – nothing to do with London and exceptionally good. Gets me off the Rebus for a short time. Stops me playing Pro Evo.

Must have a haircut.