Sipping my second drink, I scan the pages, absorbing little. I see the words on the page, but it's like reading an unfamiliar foreign language, insofar as I can pronounce them, but they fly past before their meaning is registered. My mind is elsewhere. I suddenly notice how deathly silent it is in here, so I switch on the radio and then proceed not to listen to it, because by now I'm staring at the crossword without inspiration. Roll on 5.30 and Wheel of Fortune.
Afternoons are really dreadful.
Then, when the sun goes down, it feels like the end of life. Sleep is impossible. Next day, the mail brings a collection of bills, which I take home and apprehensively open. Telecom wants to remind me that my account is overdue and threatens to cut my phone off. There are ways of avoiding this, of course, but I don't think of them.