Of course, I should really have been writing ...

I should have been writing.  For the past six months.  But I wasn't. At least not really.  A few sketches here, lines for video games there, lots and lots of script-editing and line-tweaking and, oh-dear-this-scene-will-have-to-go-ing.  And then a holiday. But no 'proper' writing.

But I did go to the Jackfield Tile Museum on holiday, where I read that in March 1830, Alderman Jones recorded in his diary that the landlord of The Lloyds Head ...

'was catched in bed with another man's wife at Worcester by the woman's husband, and the husband stuck a pickel in his backside which caused him to run away without his cloths and after that he offered 15 shillings to make it up'.

... which makes up for everything.