It's almost 4 am and I'm feeling mighty smug, reader. I've been working steadily all night, pausing only twice. Once to make myself a sandwich and a cup of coffee, and once again an hour ago, to watch Beyonce singing that girls would run the world. Don't look at me like that. It was three in the morning and I needed reminding.

I'm sitting at the dining table today, and I like that I have space to spread myself out. The table is strewn with all my paraphernalia. There are books and pens, the laptop, headphones, iPod, empty coffee mug, plate with breadcrumbs... all proof of the hard work I've been doing. Panda has been checking in on me every couple of hours. He ambles up, his nails clicking against the tiles, and nudges my elbow with his nose. I scratch behind his ears and then, satisfied, he goes back to bed.

I like working in the night. It turns so dark that it is hard to remember that morning will come. If there was no clock ticking away in the corner of my screen, I could come to believe the night would last forever.

I should imitate the dog and go to sleep, only I don't feel like it just yet. I feel wide awake and the world outside is already turning grey. I feel a restless energy which I impute to vast amounts of caffeine. The sun will rise soon, and then I'll go to bed.