I slept well last night. For the first time in ages. A long hard sleep. I think, perhaps, I slept too long because I've spent all day half asleep. All day I've been in that place where I'm not quite awake, my head in a fuzz, easily disrtacted and desperate to go back to dream land. In this place somewhere between awake and asleep some of the best stories lie. If I can find them. Some days I half-wake from slumber to a mind full of stories and poems as though the dreams have hitched a lift back to reality. Today is not one of those days. Instead I've walked the dogs, pottered around the house and now I'm sat. Trying to get those synapses to give me something of value. Instead they're saying "nah let's Google Rory McCann pictures or get in an infinite Greg Davies outtakes Youtube loop instead." I have no motivation. That is my curse. I try not to be lazy but I am terrible at getting myself motivated. I work well to close panicked deadlines. If...