Tuesday, 8th October 2019.
I didn’t drink any alcohol yesterday. It was weird. The reason for this, is that my liver hurts. I probably need to go to the doctor about it. Whilst I’m there he can check for all my other suspected ailments. Prostate cancer, bowel cancer, suspected appendicitis……I also think I might have sprained my right testicle.
I’m bound not to have a full week this week due to the loss of the big Bedford job, so I’ll book something.
It’s tough this getting old shit and it makes me suspect that most things might be psychosomatic, as it all seemed to start around my birthday.
Apart from that and the obvious “no pot to piss in”, everything is………..usual. I was going to say “peachy” but that would be taking things a bit far.
The guv has managed to find another pissy little job for us to do tomorrow. Anything is better than nothing I suppose. I think we have been there befor. I think the tradesmen entrance is next door to G.A.Y.(YEAH YEAH YEAH! I know).
Work or no work, it is my favourite neck of the woods. Soho. I might have to hit a credit card and visit Gerry’s?
Wednesday, 9th October 2019.
I’m still in Piccadilly. I’m back to sort out the drawings. No drawings. No money. At least I’m alone with no one to bother me.
I can just sit in the tearoom and listen to my “Most Listened tracks of 2018” on Spotify.
As suspected, I didn’t make it past Gerrit’s without purchasing a bottle of Patron. It’s the same price as Amazon but without the wait.
Anyway, I couldn’t adventure much as I had 30 kilos of bags on my back so I retreated to the Montegue Pike for a Guinness.
Amusingly, the London Friendship Centre had reserved various tables. I was, very rudely, told to move by the organiser.
The rest of the day was usual. Ran a few cables. Talked shit. Watched a couple of buskers.
All my internal pain has vanished. I mean completely? Hhmmm.