I had myself something of a revelation about the re-plotting I'm doing for Dearest . . . on the walk home from work yesterday. I think I may have a way to sort out some of the problems I'm having in working out how the characters are getting from here to there. It may work, and it's so deceptively simple a move that I spent the rest of the evening kicking myself for not spotting it earlier.

As is always the case when such revelations strike, I had neither pen nor paper on me. So I was forced to send myself a text message containing the important details. If I hadn't made some sort of note I would have surely forgotten about how it was to go about.

Luckily, I'm used to the funny looks I recieve when I suddenly stop in the street and start texting on my phone even though it has made no noise. I'm thankful that the new phone I bought on Friday has predictive text, for now it means I'm standing in the way for a lot less time.

In other news, I finished Dune again. Damned if I can remember that ending though. Worries me slightly; did I even finish the first time round, or am I just losing my memory prematurely? I'm fairly sure I must have finished it because I wrote the aforementioned book report, but even so . . .

And, I've been seconded to the wastewater group at work. Wouldn't be so bad if we hadn't been completely mistaught the whole subject at Uni. Looks like I've a fun couple of months ahead. Tomorrow: pipe wrapping.

Later . . .