Sven and I make mistakes

What was that I was saying about the World Cup? I'm working next week, and working away from a television. And suddenly it registers why I'm going to Paris, and not my Editor-boss...

And now finding a hotel isn't as easy as first thought. Everywhere is booked. Or at least the two places I know are booked, which is a shame as they were in the middle of my favourite part of town. But enough. I have the rough guide and an A-Z. And a phone. And a standard of French that's a few swear words over schoolboy level. Things will be fine.

Work isn't going to well these days though. Too many stupid mistakes, either through exhaustion or not knowing. I'm not stupid, but these kinds of things make me look it.

So maybe Paris will be a good opportunity to do something well and re-start with a good piece of work done, rather than trying too hard and missing the mark? I'm tired feeling miserable and thinking of doing the honourable resignation thing.

So yes, to Paris. Nothing bad has ever happened to me there. It's a place to blend in, be anonymous and work well. I may even sit in a cafe being pretentious. The opportunity is there to be seized.

Because right now I haven't written a word in anger for days. I wake up each day as stressed as I felt the night before and it doesn't take long for whatever energy I have left to disappear. I need to plug the hole and recharge.

And I'll miss my girlfriend. That much is certain. Lots I don't want in my head right now. But time away passes quickly. It will soon be the weekend. And England could be out by then so why worry about the World Cup?