Scunneration

Wednesday 10:55 a.m.
It's a miserable day out there. When I stepped onto the wet pavement this morning, I realised my boots were leaking and almost phoned in sick. It doesn't take much, Jack! I'm here at the jobbie anyway. I don't like being here. Nobody else is here.

The London Book Fair is at the end of this month. Once I wondered if one day someone would take a book of mine to the Frankfort Book Fair. And they did. But they didn't sell it. Somehow I didn't expect that. But the one in London is on soon and you never know.

I thought I was going to take a real spanking from the nicotine withdrawals this week after seven days on the joints, but it's been not too bad. I haven't gone out looking for small furry animals to torture or attacked anyone. I drank beer over the last two nights, but I might have done that anyway. Still, not a good state of mind really. Doomed.

I wasn't expecting there to be no soapbar for the first three months of this year. It's been unsettling. If some arrives this evening, I'm not going to drink until it runs out again!

It's been a crap couple of days, but I'm going home now. Yes, I'm going home!