I have spent the last hour and a half crossing London looking for an internet café with a working printer. I have not found one. The fucking idiot bitch in the first one in Camden didn't know how her own computers worked. The second one I tried has become - I kid you not - a fucking trendy fucking wine bar. So I caught the bus back towards home thinking, of course there'll be something. No. The first of the Holborn cafés had had some kind of technological fault and the second was shut. The one by Waterloo? Shut. The one at Elephant? Shut. So I'm not going to see Cillian Murphy tonight. I'm so sorry, katyha, and so grateful to you for trying to get me there - I know how godawful it is when you try to do something lovely for someone and it doesn't work, I feel terrible.