Three hours on the A46, then manouvering the car and me round loughborough leicestershire, heaton, smeetin, seaton, fleeton and godknowswherethefuckamiton.

I was tired when I got in, and promised myself no bread til Christmas, but i'm still awake at 11.30, and had toast a little while ago, washed down with some cute oranges.

I have a present for you, it's waiting wrapped in paper.

I look down at my white tshirted torso, and my pants, and my duvet, and its all a bit mundane. I wear the same white undershirt I promised i'd never wear...it's to keep the cold out I tell myself, but it's just about getting older.

Pipe smoke and cardigans next

london tomorrow, the hoards of staff members caring if you call them 'mate' or 'girl' like some jumped up Greer, burning their bra.
"Last week we went to football and the women stayed at home." Fuck they wouldn't like that, but that's fuckin reality duck, it's here and I grew up with it, and me and my uncles and dad and grandad are all members of the club, and you're not, and for that very fucking simple reason.

A final sip of water for today, from a glass smelling of beer in parts, the last taste of a victory pint this evening.