Tomorrow, and for the whole of next week, I'm going to be doing something I haven't done in many many months:  I'm going to be getting up at a regular time in the morning, to go to work - and at the same place each day.  The idea seems at once both novel and familiar.

I shall be a commuter, mingling with other commuters, but hiding from them a terrible, gleeful secret:  I am not going to an office, nor a shop, nor any one of the myriad of places that folk generally think of as "a proper job".  I found this sort of sensation a considerable buzz during the summer tour, but in some ways, it's even more pronounced this time, because of the simple normality of the travel environment.

It is, I'll admit, a shame that this freedom comes at a price (no money!) but, at least until the bailiffs show up, it'll be worth it (and maybe even then).