I will get back to you in a second.

Whither Byron B-Boy-Byron. What was your surname. Little lad so interesting. With a "pet" snail in his blazer pocket fed on grass: I should've given him lettuce. Ellie in Costa knows not either. 21 years of age he'll been - Swarecliffe, Leeds? There's a lad called Byron Denton on YouTube who's causing a stir. He's too young and he seems to have gone to school in Sheffield. Whatever. Oh, the luxury of knowing that he's turned out very well indeed regardless of the fractal nature of existence.

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New mattress - Simba, excellent support, but not sure about the Tog value of the duvet ... I woke up cold. It's getting on for mid May. I shouldn't need to put on any extra layers! But I didn't anyway as I got up and had porridge and a cold brew coffee: warmed up nicely! Maybe I oriented the duvet upside down? Funny smell. The smell of very fresh polyester. Diffuses soon?

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A few days have passed since I touched base here, and quite a few days have elapsed since I read any of M. Proust. Quite strange that I don't careless either way. I would normally be destroying myself for failing something "important", but really it's pretty meaningless. Very OCD to care so much for everything in its correct place in me. Books are a means of escape and I've disappeared so much down that rabbit hole that I've popped out in the Antipodes. Being beached up in the Antipodes, without any means of returning when the tunnel collapses in on itself, is becoming a relief.

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No London international wine fair. Unable to get a pass. But I really have to start where I did in 2012 at the SITT in Manchester. And I'm not liable to be able to afford Roman Blinds and London in the same month when I've to repay my France pilgrimage debt. Focus on that first. Must be zero by 31st May. Dog sitting on from Thursday 23rd(pm) until 27th(pm) and that will definitely help towards killing the debts.

Bad bread. Second loaf of Paul bakery sourdough in Out of this World with blue mould spots. Returned it for a Swedish cardamom bun. Now it's upon the hour to amaze my body with Kirkstall Pale Ale. Sat on the roof terrace in Headrow House. And I'm tired. Sleeping on the floor at mum's just doesn't cut it. It's warming up. This week is forecast hotter. Cool.

Enjoyable session with Marie, Emotional Support, as we started touching on the critical early memories. I've PTSD from the age of 4. My memory of the start of the bad times in my parents home as my father's business went under and he had to return to being a slaves' slave... Many many two bit jobs before he got back behind the wheel of a car as a chafffeur! The top of the tree in services industry. Catering to a millionaire's whims. Hanging about in London waiting, waiting, waiting for his phoney bosses expectations. Must've been grim going from lakey to boss to lakey in two years? Poor man. He never stood a chance.

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