February 9th. Part 1.

Lost note. Oh well. Not quite Coleridge.

At platform C Waterloo East. It's a little cold this morning, but not windy. I've discovered that my boots are retaining moisture from my thick socks - thick wool socks so today I try a different method. Only man made fabric.

This morning I looked around The Cut and found the three vintage Citroens which line Roupell Street. They're a tourist destination for me. Didn't manage to get to the Scooter Works on Lower Marsh, but I've enough coffee already. One 99pence filter at Pret, there are so many coffee shops in London. What else is there here? Millions rushing to their many boxes being drawn to the ball and chain. I stood and giggled. Then gave my remaining change to a homeless guy. He's from Adelaide and used to work in the film industry. Now he's on the streets next to Southwark Underground.

Now I am heading east of on an earlier train to Canterbury. Had a lovely breakfast chat with the three Sister's at the Community and a resident from Santiago, Chile (Doris the Harpsichord player). They'll let me sleep again on the 28th February. Glee!

On my right I pass brutal Guys/St Thomas's and the Shard. Everywhere the "dozers" are building their structures so high. Babel hasn't been knocked down as it pushes out the Thames. But time is coming when this will be seen for the error it is.

Ask to get a way out. Ask the guards to help you onwards. Often they respond to a kind request from a "local" - Anglo Saxon born and bred ... Get east to the city of our martyr. That empty shrine to Him who said No to a Thane. Always say No, regardless of the consequences, if the truth is not within it. This is not a mocking crown of thorns at all; self made chains are only fit to be broken.

At the Unitarian Church in Leeds on Sunday there was a Sermon by a Hindu and some ritual burning. I felt my soul join up with the smoke as it led the way up into the rafters and returned to the ether. Smoke is a reminder of the impermanence of being here on Earth. Live life like smoke and disappear once the flames have consumed your time here. Return to the nothing from which we came in that moment of union.

Leaving Tonbridge Kent's plenty is revealed. Orchards, plantations and Oast houses spread north and south as far as the estuary and the channel. Here is a farmer burning the fallen branches from another storm.