Day 0310

Lay in bed late this morning listening to Montaigne, hardly the riotous start to the day my youth should demand. Mind forcefully turning to the girl I want, quite unsuitable and so wholly perfect for my patchwork, ill-conceived life story. But no action, no high-octane living, just sober family walks over the misty October Suffolk fields. The wrong time of life for slow living! Missing opportunities to assemble a dissipated and fullsomely lived youth.

Halfway through my application to a multinational technology firm, and I'm already getting worried about making a wrong decision and not being true to myself. I'm a self-centered, unreliable dreamer, not a company man! How to accelerate through to idle richness and not have to bend to the yoke of pitifully bland, meaningless years of structure, stricture and soul-sapping tedium?
Must write a book! Must harness the spark, the armchair rebel, before it is distinguished wholly and forever.

Physical symptoms of stress tackled with a prophylactic dose of Jeeves and Wooster.