I now have a hypnotist in the room above me. I have imagined R. and myself doing all manner of filthy things in that room, now even my fantasies have been supplanted. No wonder they petered out to such a pathetic and banal end this morning. I think it's time I touched her. I also thought we had voted on keeping this house as 'talking cures' only and now we have this circus act with his straggle of smokers and obesitists clumping up the stairs beside me. Why did no-one tell me? I love nothing more than being out of the loop, but there are things I should be told.

It was with this half formed thought, one removed from actual feeling and doing battle with another half-formed thought concerning Lacan's method, that I returned to my room and found Gareth's little note:

'Boredom is anger spread thin'.

First thought: I'll bite his neck.