104.  Thursday afternoon at Cannon Street.

It was a last minute decision to come here.  It’s okay.  Spacious, screens.  There’s a commotion about a group of young people.  They’re arguing.  That happens in groups of people, which is why I don’t function in them, or engage in situations with multiple people.  The mixed race man with check trousers is here, not unattractive.  A long haired student type too.  Alone.

I came here by river, two nice sailors.  It feels like a very civilised way of travelling, slightly displaced from the city and the world.  A place of quiet secrecy.  I may look into doing it regularly with a scooter for the downriver to home stretch.  I should look at costs and times.  I have before but my memory is not good now.

I feel flat, numb, now.  The shop yesterday felt awkward.  Busy, complicated.  New manager flapping, not achieving anything.  I have to tell myself not to care, to detach myself.  It’s hard though.  I need to learn to use time to relax, to restore energy.  I still think I have scurvy.  I’ll have to buy vitamin supplements on the way home, and a cauliflower.  I have little enthusiasm for going to work next week.

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