NWWMFTOTDSTB?

It was a work day today with lots of shafts of sunshine- seeing people I hadn't seen for ages- Jean Seaton, the second supervisor of my PHD, who is writing a history of the BBC. She told me she has learned a huge amount about spies and political intrigue that she never expected to learn, and Elin, Chris Carr's partner, who has started studying ceramics at the University of the West. I met the budding songwriters there for the first time today and felt excited about what they might achieve. When I got home via the supermarket (no blueberry muffins! what's wrong?) there was a message that a man had phoned. As I stuffed the fridge, I called the man. He was from the Independent and writing something about professors who perform, and I did an interview with 3 boxes of cereal in one hand and the phone in the other. Glamour!
My car is expiring, very slowly. It does not want to travel over 40 MPH, even with my foot on the floor. It's pretending it's loaded down with dumb-bells, elephants, obese grandfathers, lead balloons, party sevens, iron bedsteads, bricks and library books. I think I know what is wrong with it- the coil pots. That's not something to do with ceramics, believe it or not, but little gadgets above the spark plugs. That means tomorrow morning, my first thought must be to call the garage. But I know I will wake and lie in bed thinking
Now
What
Was
My
First
Thought
Of
The
Day
Supposed
To
Be?