I don’t know about you but I’m not a fan of change. I like it when things are, to a greater extent, fixed. I like knowing what’s going on. Although there’s a playful improvisatory side to me, I like to feel and think I’m in control. I’m a fan of a plan, even if I end up going off-piste.

I’ve got so many questions that probably have no answers, only those I can find by looking deep inside myself. Why am I here? What’s the point? Who cares?

I’m going away. I’m feeling quite considerable anxiety. It’s uncomfortable and I deal with it by keeping busy. The anxiety is about survival. I want to survive. I want to come back from my road trip. I sometimes find it hard to justify the reason. Life feels too monochrome.

There’s a deep dissatisfaction which doesn’t sit well. It could be seasonal. It could be hormonal. It could quite simply be that this is such a complex and uncomfortable age in which we live. I often think I’d be better suited to life in olden times, the age of horse and cart, the era of candles and writing elegantly with a feather, its tip hand honed, dipped in a pungent inkwell. Typing on a laptop never feels quite expressive or messy enough. I can’t slash a red line through an unsatisfactory word or uninspiring phrase. Pen and paper take too long. Perhaps I’ll try a podcast. The microphone is on my desk, poised, ready for some airtime. Ahem. La la la la laaa. I tackled my major technical challenge last night, updating my Satnav, which had caused me concern for a few weeks. Passwords. Logins. Memorable information. Which of these images has a shopfront? Is that even a shopfront?

Change is inevitable and inevitably I’ll fight it every step of the way with the resistance of an ox or that of an ass. I know who’ll win!