Sunday 19th December 2021

Sunday morning.

The stench of puke and piss lingers like the morning mist in pizza box strewn door and alley ways.

*

How many folks in Bar3 are in Wetherby Masonic Lodge? I bet Dan Jones is! LOL.

*

Sunday afternoon.

To feel surrounded by folks who would only give me cold shoulder of ham or the board to sleep on, even when they have both warmth and comfort to give? This is why I struggle with Wetherby. Probably seeing something which is not there at all? After doing a shorter hour walk with Lola, where I suddenly felt the urgent need to defacate some watery faeces and used the disabled toilet in Wetherby Sports Association (luckily open because there was a game of football being played on the Ings in the grey dull moment), I went to find a copy of A Christmas Carol. To say modern Christmas is under the influence of Victorianism and Dickens is such an understatement? But I've never read that guilty little book...

Since reading  the Lady in the Van by Alan Bennett I've become a huge fan of his humour and so, because unfortunately Mind in Wetherby had no A Christmas Carol, I bought  The Uncommon Reader; which is, obviously, hilarious; it also hints at the inner life of 'our' Queen Bee of whom we know absolutely nothing except what Netflix would have us believe?

In Bar3 I had my usual half pint of Leffe and left after an hour on page 30. At the Mews there was a lot of folks I know who I feel absolutely loath me: except perhaps Charmaine and Kerry who run the establishment and have a thin vein of the psychologist that a landlord was supposed to have in the 'Golden Era' of public houses...

At twenty to two I left at page 49 for a Roast Chicken lunch with Mother and a patient Lola waiting left scraps off the table... Those folks who exude that bad vibe are literally meaningless to me and are the main reason I can never live in Wetherby: it's such a clique town where I've rarely found anyone to meet on a level.