I need to make a plan. I have time, I have space, I have some funds. The world is, right now, my oyster. The specter of lack of income looms, though. It doesn't worry me too much right now, mind you, but I'm aware that it can't go on forever, and I'm also aware that I don't know under exactly which set of circumstances this will change. The ideal situation would be to have a guaranteed job starting in six months, allowing me all the time and spending I need to complete the various projects I have on the boil. That's unlikely, though.

Today finds me on the bus again, on my way to Waterloo again. This time, however, rather than blowing on small bits of intricate metal and plastic, I shall be sitting astride considerably larger bits of intricate metal and plastic. I'm off to buy a bike. There's a big shop there, and I'm meeting a mate who seems to know all there is to know about bikes (I mentioned the bike my flatmate has to him and he immediately reeled off all it's pros and cons, together with a particularly unique feature that he doesn't personally like. Impressive. I have a feeling that this is going to be a bit of a 'personal shopper' experience. I'm going to give him a budget and a list of requirements, and he's going to go and source me a few products to try out (hopefully while I sit in the pub across the road, supping on a refreshing beverage.)

Tomorrow should find me playing rugby. However, due to a mix-up, the skipper thought I wasn't available. Now, while I can turn up and get a game, this does give me a neat excuse to not play. Difficult. I still love rugby, I love playing and I love it when I've played. I don't like the idea of playing, though. I can take or leave tomorrow – particularly as it involves a thirty-minute train journey north of Liverpool Street. Perhaps I should force myself, though. After all, I'd only have to find something else to occupy me.