Today, much praise for work done from Anna as she and I prepared to report to out strand 3 'implementation group'. It's nice to be praised but after all these years I'd still rather be told that I'm not doing well enough and I need to work harder. I accept that some good things have happened, but they always seem to me to happen accidentally. I never seem to feel any sense of agency.

Last night I was supposed to meet Dan for a last Berger event in Shoreditch. I realised I was going to be late so jumped on bike and pedalled hard. As I went down to bottom gear to get onto London Bridge, the back derailleur caught in the back wheel spokes and the bike came to an abrupt stop. I carried it across the road to the rather coveniently sited Evans, and left it there. The derailleur was lodged so tightly in the spokes that only the destruction of the spokes was going to get it out of the wheel, and the bit that hold the derailleur on had snapped off.

I carried on to Shoreditch, and was desperately eating a sandwich when Chris called to say that Paul was in London for the evening. Realising that I was an hour and a half late anyway, I agreed to jump on the tube and come down to Brixton. Great time in the pub where the usual conversation around 'drugs we have known' ensued. How I wish I was 21, unemployed and in Leeds, instead of being 21, very employed and in Muscat drinking huge amounts of vodka to cope with being cut adrift from friends and any semblance of the culture I had become accustomed too. Mind you, the sex was good.