Sunday evening in a darkened tavern in the city.  Huge numbers of young people in groups of ten or more.  Some maybe have been to one of those conventions where they dress up as fictional characters, they look the type.  There are young ladies with brightly coloured hair, who talk about how they dyed their … Continue reading 10.  When less is more? →

I’m on the Brighton main line again.  I’d be happy living amongst the chimney pots around Battersea.  It looks like one of those normal areas, unchanged, with high streets and shops.  Living amongst rooftops high above the city is appealing, aspirational.  The young alternative drop out couple in Mike Leigh’s High Hopes could go to … Continue reading 95.  Wednesday, feeling quite barren. →

My first time back here in a long while.  My first time actively doing this – allowing time specifically to observe and write, be a part of a cafe society, hundreds of us flaneuring and silently recording.  I nearly did it yesterday, I thought about going to Victoria, the magnet for drifters, but I prevaricated … Continue reading 11.  Sunday at the sporty hostel in Greenwich. →

It’s hot today.  An autumn heatwave, one might say.  The seasons are still unleashed, unfettered, unknown.  That special time last year when all was quiet, paused, that time has gone now, forever.  I remember observing that guy here who reminded me of Melvyn Hayes.  It was enjoyable, stimulating then, I forget exactly when.  I can’t … Continue reading 130.  Tuesday.  Day off. Greenwich. →

I don’t.  It brings to mind lungs and other parts which should remain inside the body, shouldn’t they? I now have that flat, sunken feeling that comes after....   after what?  I still don’t know what to call it, how to describe it.  None of the commonly used terms feel comfortable for me.  Episode.  Meltdown.  Attack.  … Continue reading 154.  Tuesday.  Some people use the word decompression. →

I’m restless for change, constant reinvention. I went to South Woodford yesterday.  When we moved there in 1984 it seemed vibrant, cosmopolitan, gritty.  Eastenders started that year, and I think I expected our new neighbourhood to be similar.  There was an archway leading between Victorian buildings on George Lane, and two huge tower blocks where … Continue reading 30. →

I came here by the unusual fast train which only runs on special days, and only carries people who know about it.  We are propelled above the streets of Peckham and Camberwell feeling decadent for a few minutes.  It is a Bank Holiday tomorrow, so coming here today feels imbibed with the spirit of carnival.  … Continue reading 157.  Sunday afternoon.  Back at the old place. →

Spring is here.  I’ve had washing hanging out today.  I’m happy with the white wall, it needs another coat, then the floor and the radiator.  I’m looking forward to light and space. I’ve just watched a John Rogers film about Hackney Wick.  He made a similar film of a walk there in 2016, today’s is … Continue reading 97.  Sunday evening. →

I got up early today, cycled to the sorting office and back by 8.30am.  It’s a bright sunny day, warm but with cold air, I’ve found it positive.  Haven’t applied for jobs.  Have thought about jobs.  Have made slightly cavalier financial plans based on nebulous optimism about my new earnings potential.  If I do the … Continue reading 65.  Thursday, at St Pancras. →

In St Pancras.  People are so noisy.  I’m increasingly intolerant of sudden, excess unwarranted sound.  Noisy people don’t understand the concept of public space and respect for others.  I’m remarkably tolerant of certain other things though.  Dirt and disease, rancid marginalised people.  I’m trying to enjoy a last day of free time, I’m doing a … Continue reading 129.  I can’t remember when. →