Here's the thing...

At about midday I have all sorts of fascinating things to say. I sit on a bus or a minibus, or on my lunch break, composing beautiful pieces about the community I work in on a wednesday, or the astounding gracefulness of the woman in the red dress at the train station. Its just that, by the time I get home at 7pm, then cook, then do four hours work, I barely have the energy to undress before I get into bed. And all those newly composed verses and sharp, clear emotions become kind of messy and blurred and hazy, as I fall into a semi-coma listening to the Archers.