I have lost my voice. It is a startling and distressing experience. On Friday, when it began most noticeably to falter, it was inconvenient but did get me a certain amount of sympathy.

Yesterday, pottering around town trying to perform some basic errands, it was mildly amusing. I whispered to my optician that I'd come in to pick up my contact lenses and she said "you know, it's really hard not to whisper back..."

I think the guy in Dragon Way thought I was mocking him when I went in to pick up my singapore fried noodles.

Today it is infuriating. I am actively avoiding any kind of social interaction. Which isn't a bad thing as I'm at last defrosting some of the contents of my freezer. But unusual by my standards.

I tell myself that I should take this quiet time as an opportunity to understand the hidden depths of "Tiny Dynamite" before next weekend's auditions.

Unfortunately I am rather sidetracked by Justin Cartwright's lovely "Pursuit of Happiness".

I have a presentation at work tomorrow. Nothing earth-shatteringly important you understand but it would be nice to be able to speak my own words. Above a whisper.

My friend Mr Neill observed (when I silently attended a brilliant production of The Boyfriend on Friday evening) that colds always seem to seize my throat.

Someone trying to tell me something I'm sure.