So having staggered out of bed this morning at 10 to 6, I just about manage to co-ordinate getting ready for work, catching a bus, a train and staggering into sainsbury's to buy coffee, milk and anything else I can see that might keep me awake.

On the way in there, there they are, carefully displayed near the door... hot cross buns.

Is it me or are we galloping through time like we're on the waltzers these days? Can't we ever stop and smell the flowers?

As I wandered into a clearly empty building I did notice the Christmas tree still there, looking how I feel - mostly dead with limp baubles. The office cleaner hasn't turned off my radiator like she usually does so my office is quite cozy, my bat phone's not flashing so I've no nagging inquiries to sort first thing and my spider plant appears to have survived without me. I'm on my second cup of coffee. The corridor is silent.

I'm off to see I'm Not There tonight. The Beloved is massive on Bob Dylan. All right for him. He's still in bed. No work for him till Monday.

But I'll be fine. I'm prepared. There's a can of redbull lite in the handbag now.