Hmmm. I just presented my re-worked draft, the one that I carved out of a story that was completely different over the last couple of weeks by getting to the simple emotional core message, I thought. It didn't go down so well because someone else wrote pretty much the same story before, for the same publisher. And illustrated it. Very nicely, too. They had a copy to hand, I leafed through it and couldn't believe it.
"So... lets go back to the original idea then, huh" I said. Ungh.
So, lovely simple story of caring for your pet out. Giant robots back in. New meeting scheduled in two weeks' time. Giant robots are better anyway. Fuh.
On the way back home the tube got stuck and I walked through the City in the rain - I mean the part of London that is basically made out of banks, by Bank station, where everyone either wears a suit or is lost. When I found London Bridge station in the dark I couldn't find the fork to eat my salad dinner with, even though I emptied all my bags twice over, so I ate it with my hands, bean by bean, which I had ample time for because the train was standing in the station for almost half an hour.
Sooo... I think I'll just put on my pyjamas and watch a stupid movie.