I was feeling all very proud of myself yesterday. I spent big portions of last week - well, as big spare portions as you get when you have a day job and an application for a slot at the Big Burns Supper to be completed and despatched - working on the script edit for (let's just call it) Next Project. And after some hours of rare dedication yesterday, I completed draft one. O how smug. (Though the smugness was a little submerged yesterday beneath a devil's / red wine hangover.)

What a neat and trim edit I had created. How pointed, punchy and tidy the script had become.

Then I checked the page count. Original versus new draft.

Ten pages less. Only ten. Out of one hundred and eight.

Maybe there's some work yet to go.