Fifty-six.

It's full circle: YHA Thameside. A night in peace on my own in room 316 with a romantic view of Canada Water and a gas tower looking south west. What a day was Sunday. London is a great city and I'm certain that Samuel Johnson was quite correct. You know that for six years I had been bored of life, but I had just about hung on, and now I feel I've a gift to share.

She was shaking like a leaf in frenzy, blown in gusts, but such a sweet girl: a little girl who knew I could offer only protection. Laid on the floor in the Swedish bakery Fabriqué, Hoxton I did what I could to show her not all men are the monsters she supposes! A Podenco Canario delicate and well mannered, but terrified. The wonderful darling: my heart lingered and was broken.

They've stopped doing Tartine at Monmouth Coffee Co.! That old chestnut - too much waste! Is this Hard Times or is this a glowering accountant trimming pence of loss! Bastard's! We deal in more than profit and loss in our world. Although you'd be hard pressed to realise it as a rude lawyer fronts his bottom on my shoulder before a hasty sorry and a shuffle away from me! But the coffee is fine and I should now walk up to King's Cross.