Don't Want to Say a Title

Saturday 18th Febuary 2005

Mocha Cafe, Charing Cross Road, London

Everyone agrees it's so quick, Anne said so last night over the phone. It's strange I can sit and cry as I write about it, but not speaking about it. I mean, I speak about it, but without emotion.

She says it doesn't hurt, but the chart at the end of the bed said it does.

Globetrotter got expensive, so I'm staying in Dumil in Olympia, though I have to say that it's one of the roughest places I've been in ever, I think it's full of dss people, so it might be somewhere I go back too. For just a pound more I can go to Ace tomorrow, which should be within walking distance. That rough, rough place, I don't really want to go home.

I don't know what to do generally; this is very serious. I truely am living on credit card debt now. The social will probably help me when I've spent it all out, but if that's going to be the case, I might as well go somewhere like Vietnam and spend out there. I know that sounds insane, but while I have any savings, it's not just that I get no benefits, but also all the courses I'm planning to start, I can't do those if I'm not in receipt of benefits. I'm of the inclination to just go now while I can... but I have this feeling, that perhaps I should try and stick it out until the winter, so time to complete courses. It's so unbelievable hard to find the information. I've finally got it, you can do igcse's with edexcel, but the closing date to receive applications is next Tuesday. It's horrible, because I learn now that they do the subjects I want. There's still a chance, it could be possible if I pay late fees... but is it free for people on benefits. It would be nice as the exams are in June, all I have to do is stick it out, then I have a savings bond that matures, and I can use that to get away on. Have a long break and return having a new qualification and knowing how the system works.

If I can get this sorted out, so that there's a definite timestamp on my time on this stint in the UK.

G is going to be in charge of everything now... which means I can rely on myself. Everything he does, or would do, would be with conditions. I live my life according to guidence, dreams, obe messages. If I said that I knew all this was coming he'd think me mad, he'd try and make me do something sensible that would kill me. No, I don't know what to do, but I know I'm better off not knowing him, for my self-esteem, lifecourse and sanity.

OOOOOhhhhhhhhh, it's good to speak to dear diary again. I got a little camera in the sales, not quite as good as the old Nikon, but at least I can put photos up again rather than with a disposable.

It's hard to think long-term. Let's think short. Tomorrow, I'm in Ace, it looks nice. No idea what the computer costs, but I think as it's Sunday, if I can walk there, I may as well use the computer? Not sure, but I could do with a little more research. I'm signed up for a computer course and the South African guy wants me to meet him Monday where he hangs around the job centre, so I'll do that, but it means making a move concerning claiming benefit again? I am supposed to stay here for a while at least. The main thing is speaking to M. She's not allowed a mobile, you have to use their phone @ 150 a minute, or don't speak. It's cheaper outgoing, but she's too ill to dial. The F****** nhs, they ruin the start of your life and then the end of it, blaming you all of the way.

But even if it's really expensive, I'll say hello if just for two minutes.

I'd better go. Probably can write tomorrow. So, so, so many things to say. I do love you, dear, dear diary. If only I could write everything.



Sunday 19th February 2006

10:10pm, Ace Hotel, Gunterstone Road, West Kennsington, London

I stayed in Dumil B&B last night, was actually there two nights. My God, it was a hard place. I mean I've stayed in hard places before, but this was different. It was rough, full of people on DSS (benefits). The place was dim and falling apart. When I sat in the TV room, this guy introduced himself as Frank and offered to make me coffee, which I declined.

After some time I realised that he keeps coming in and sponging smokes off different people, alternately, including the staff.

There was a fat guy called Jimmy, Eastern European, fat and bald, usually unshaved with his ass out his pants sleeping with his mouth open on the torn sofa.

People were giving each other hair cuts in the corridors. There were mice and mouse traps.

I think it dawned on me there that this is the kind of place I'm going to have to be in for a while. The second night wasn't so bad; I watched some TV. But Frank kept coming and going. Out the back there was kind of a private shared garden which would be nice in the summer. I suppose I could stand it for some time. It wouldn't be forever.

For just one pound more a night I came here today. There's no kitchen, but it's clean. I've been noticing something for a long time now. I feel OK here, I didn't in Dumil. I'm not comfortable around English people; never have been really, recalling both my parents are foreigners. Here in Ace, I won't speak to anyone, but there's an international atmosphere, and it feels OK; I'm never going to be able to settle here.

I realised how close I was to Hammersmith, so I walked over there today. I had a coffee in King's Mall, then phoned M for two minutes. In NHS hospitals, they ban mobiles and force you to use their phones, which is 1.50 a minute -- complete rip off. How can they do this? In an oncology ward where people are terminal, it means only two minutes we can speak.

She was pleased to hear from me and sounded positive. Anne went yesterday and said she was confused; talkinig about the past and things that have finished, but she said it was normal as she can't see a clock and so can only sit and think without knowing the actual passing of time. When G. went that night, he said she was OK. It could have been A&G the other way around, I can't remember.

I went and sat in the William Morris pub in King Street, near the Underground station, which has pretty much become my local I suppose. It's nice to go to the same place sometimes.

I've been thinking what to do with the cash I have, because the CAB told me to get rid of it and apply again. I have to be accepted for benefits or all of the CV help, igcse's, gce, Microsoft Course, ABTA, everything I've been arranging will be cancelled.

One idea that came to me is gold. I know that sounds nuts, but I looked into it. A standard coin of gold is exactly one troy ounze. It costs about 235 sterling at the minute. Because it's not technically a new commodity there's no VAT. If you want less than 50,000.00 sterling you don't have to show ID nor declare it. There's no profit on the sale and resale other than the spread between buying and selling that the dealer makes. So a thousand pounds would only be around four coins. There are also special issue coins which vary in design year to year and are issued by different countries, like the Australian Gold Nugget and the Chinese Panda. I thought perhaps get the Australian one for 1994, the year I met J. and put it in her box which I'm bequeathing to her.

Oh, I forgot...

Dream, of about three weeks ago

I met up with Junko, and we were together and everything was as it was.

For some reason, it came about that we couldn't stay together, but would be forced to make this a finite relationship. I was really upset but suddenly came to the conclusion that I would just accept it and concentrate on enjoying my time with her as much as I could.

Interpretation

Yeah

Looking back over my time in life, I've made mistakes.... mistakes which were huge sometimes. But it's more important to come to this life, face up to the lessons and learn head on the things you're supposed to learn rather than to live a long time and accumulate a lot of money and possessions, which is basically stored energy rather than flowing.

I think after I got over agoraphobia as a teenager, I was excited about life, and a bit niave. I thought about what I wanted, and decided on domesticity, a wife, family, house and all of this abroad. I got a bit obsessed, and when I couldn't bring this to me with magic, I went off looking for it. Found what really exists, impermanence, and then spent years yearning.

Now I realise that I couldn't have what I want anyway, because of this disease and its symptoms, and because it doesn't exist.

For example, I know know I have CAPD, and always have had. I used to be punished for it at school. It caused that disaster with Nikki. I just can't function is a crowded social setting. It didn't matter with Junko because it was just the two of us, so intense, alone, but I guess it couldn't have lasted like that forever.... unless she went off with her own friends. OH GOD, stop thinking like this.

The main thing is, to feel guided. G broke down when he heard the news about M. But I dreampt this a year before and have had various obes, visions ect to confirm along the way. I'm not saying it doesn't hurt, but if it had have come as a bombshell to me it would have broken me, but it didn't, I was shown and moved more. I can't stress this enough. Whenever I've really needed to know something is coming or that there's something I need to do, I am always shown in advance, without any shadow of a doubt, in some unmistakable obe. This happens because I don't rely on anyone. I don't see anyone for help. There's just an internal trust. And so I get this... help(?), because, you get what you expect. This kind of thing happens once or twice to most people in a lifetime, because they believe it's a gift and grace and all the other silly things they've been told, yet none of them have an expectation.

EXPECT GUIDENCE**EXPECT INTERVENTION**EXPECT FORSHADOWING**EXPECT THE DIVINE

Ohhhhh, maybe I'm too intense sometimes. Let me end on a positive little note. I love the camera; I take a couple of pictures a day. Combining it with a diary makes me feel better somehow. Like today, I had to sit down on the way home because my legs were really hurting. But I photographed them on low resolution, and in some insane way, I felt better knowing that dear diary can see my poor poor crippled legs.

I love sitting in parks; no matter what's happening to me. I can just focus on my breath, watch my thoughts -- and when I watch them they just receed away, so then there's only sensation left in my body. But I watch that until it quitens. Then there's just nothing but me and the trees around me and the wind on my face and my peace.

All the time in Asia, sometimes silly or wasted, but with the practices and ideas I pursued, I permanently changed the way my mind is. Not wholly a waste.



Next Day

Briefly, M's biopsy was postponed for the first time. She was so angry, C. had to go to the hospital to calm her down. It's J's birthday on Thursday. My plan is, buy gold, go cinema. No news of the interview, though I know it's not good. I'm, I don't know. Why do I obsess about someone who's forgotten me, why can't I help it? What's the answer?



Wednesday 22nd Febuary 2006

Ace Hotel, Gunterstone Road, Kennsington, London



Dream

I was on the phone speaking to Zena, the woman who's dealing with me at the Travel Academy. She told me that I had failed the interview at Jury's Inn, and would have to do the course without work experience.

Interpretation

I phoned her today actually, and I did indeed fail the interview at Jurys Inn, though I knew that deep down when I first even looked at the place... though I'm starting to wonder if I could pass an interview anywhere? This guy at Jurys Inn said he hadn't taken anyone on because of the 'low calibre' of the people that are sent.

Like me I guess.




There's only one woman in the room. She checked in three days ago after me. We only spoke once when she asked me where the bed letters were. Just a sentence; I feel really awkward around her. She's about twenty and from Argentina. We have beds exactly next to each other. Often we're back about the same time and showering and washing, but all in silence. Weird, though I guess she's nice enough -- she made a lot of friends, and doesn't seem uncomfortable. I guess it's better to be quiet, or silent, when it's just two in case someone gets the wrong idea.

Hahahahah. No, I don't mean she'll get the wrong idea and try and take advantage of me, I mean if you're female and alone and get too friendly with a guy alone, a guy not as great (and pathetic) as me could get the wrong idea.

This hostel is a lot smaller than I imagined. I thought it would be institutional, but it's actually a converted house, single house that it. there's only one phone, not really enough seats, but it will do I suppose. I waited all night for the phone, and then spoke to A.

She spent some of the day with M. Apparently, they did the biopsy but didn't get enough tissue, and so no one knows what's going to happen or when she can go. She keeps complaining that they come in the middle of the night and do things. Apparently, she's speaking very finally all the time now and doesn't want to linger at all -- ready to go from the sounds of it. So... what about April?

I can't remember if I said I'd phone yesterday. I'll definitely do it today. I'm back at Globe for two days tomorrow; not sure how I feel about that. Earlier I phoned the bullion dealers. There's no chance of an Australian gold nugget 1994, it needs to be searched for, so the plan for J's birthday is to buy a Krugerrand, sign on and then go to the cinema. Weird day eh? Sign on as unemployed for benefits, buy one troy ounze of 24 karat gold in honour of someone I'm obsessed with and who never loved me, then the cinema.

I'll go Friday, probably evening. I had my last drink Wednesday, so tomorrow is a week, which I can honestly say is the longest since I was 20. This is one of the things about being alone. I've had this problem all of these years and there's no one to know about it. I cure it all by myself and there's no one to tell and share it with and say 'Yeah baby!'. Same as my hip. I've lie on the floor unable to move, weeping in pain on many occasions, and then it goes, I get up and get on with it and no one knows. I may have an obe and see something in the future, and it's true, and there was noone to tell and so no one will know.

Alcohol was all to do with sleep. I stopped when I had to stay awake all night and then go out, and in the early evening was so tired, I could just sleep, and then the cycle was right. I never drank in the day, now I'm getting used to falling asleep sober. I don't even miss it. But when I sit up, I have to be in a hostel around people, especially when I try to sleep and can't; I feel OK in a room with people sleeping by me, I just lie there. Alone at Anne's; I can't bear it and have a drink.

Did I mention I tried St. John's Wort, the plant that cures depression. I don't want to count my chickens... but after all the prescription stuff I tried in Delhi, this is the first effect I ever had. Despite the awful circumstances... it does, mood wise, seem to be getting better.

I'd better get on and start to try and feel sleepy.

Oh, I forgot, thirteen years today since I first left England on my epic voyage. Good move? ..........

Thursday 23rd February 2006 -- Junko's Birthday

12:35am, Globetrotter Inn, Ravenscourt Gardens, Hammersmith, West London

Happy Birthday Junko Imanishi, 35 today.




Not so much done today, well, yesterday actually. I woke on time, without an alarm clock as usual, then went and checked out. Not so sure what I actually think of Ace Hotel, it was nice enough I suppose.

I walked over to Hammersmith and tried to phone M. from outside kings mall. It was really faint. There was no answer, so I went onto the KFC inside and had a vegetarian scotch egg and coffee. I came out, walked halfway to Globetrotter, then phoned again. Now Brian answered, he said hello. M. told me that no one has told him how bad it is, he's a quiet kind of person who doesn't open easily. Anyway, I spoke to her. We shouted but couldn't hear each other, and it cut out after less than half a minute. I think she was saying something about having another biopsy.

I walked on towards the hostel. I stopped in Ravenscourt Gardens and sat on a bench for a while. It was bitingly cold but peaceful until I was ready to continue up Ashlar Court; you're not allowed to check in before two pm.

On the way up I passed the friendly Canadian receptionist and we said hello, and I checked in. I'm in 303 again, with a strange smelling Indian, and as usual, people who complain about my snoring.

I charged my phone, then went out for a couple of hours to the William Morris. Only a tomato juice. I NEVER did drink in the day, though today, it's a week exactly since I had one, the longest time in a decade.

I left and went onto the shop, then put some pictures online. It was messy making linking thumbnails and I'm still going through the HTML code now. Then I came back.

I phoned Anne. She was up the hospital today. They're still testing for how bad it is and how long is left. As far as I can understand, the biopsy didn't work because they discovered that one of the lungs has completely collapsed. A. told her that you only need one. A. said, to me today... well she couldn't really say it. She fumbled over the words, but ended up saying that it's only worse and not better, that it can only get worse but not better. Like when she told me, I directly asked how long, and she palpably hesitated before saying a year, and I knew that wasn't it.

If I hadn't had the warning premonition over a year ago, then I'd be falling apart about now, but at the moment, there's a resignation. It's painful too though. Like when I saw her last. She has a notepad that someone's given her. So she tried to take notes over the various pages. Each letter is nothing more than a faint scribble, like some tiny spider landed and crawled lamely for a moment before returning to a web.

When I speak to her on the phone, she takes a long time saying she loves me and goodbye, knowing it might be the last.

When she sits on the bed and someone speaks to her two or three times and she doesn't know, the cognition is going, and the hearing... and the life I suppose.

What a time to give up drinking.

I'm back Friday, technically tomorrow. I asked A. to see what was thought about me going up on Saturday. God knows what I'll do Sunday. I can't not drink at A's place. Here, if I'm not tired, I've got used to just sitting around all the people here, mostly Australians, and although I don't know them, or anyone, I feel different; it's OK. Alone in the room at Anne's, I just can't be there waiting for tiredness.

I did have one thought. As tomorrow is J's birthday, why not go to Walkabout, the Australian chain pub. There's one in Charing Cross Road I think, though I used to think it was some expedition business. Now I know. Perhaps I could remenise... even a VB dare I say.

I hope that Junko has a good day.

Later, back at Globetrotter

Junko's birthday is in its last hour, gmt that is.

I had a nice day, I guess. I went up to buy the gold coin, but then realised that I wouldn't have time to sign on. So I went back to Hammersmith and did that, then got the money from the bank, and went up to Holborn. There I bought One Onze of pure 24 Karat gold, which I shall put in Junko's box, for 334 Sterling pounds.

I got back in time for a film at Prince Charles Cinema. It was called... something, I can't remember. When I sat down it was Japanese. About, I think, the afterworld being full and ghosts encroaching here, and people being lonely on the other side and things I didn't... I don't know.

I did go to walkabout. I had a drink and thought of J, wished her well, and came home.

Hammersmith Job Centre, and the free 'job search phone'.

Date? Definitely Monday, probably 27/28th Feburary 2006

Mocha Cafe, Charing Cross Road, London

I love this

Creep Page

. It was 'our' song, as they were playing it a lot in Australia, and I was always telling J. she was special because of it.




Not really a good day, a horrible day really. I managed to not drink, as is generally the case in London now. Then I went to the interview. It was a... quite unpretentious place near Chelsea football ground. I've completely lost all enthusiasm for it, the course generally, but even more so once I was there. I try to visualise myself through the, I mean working there and can't.

The guy was nice enough, and I bluffed my way through with stories about always having worked in hospitality. I asked him what the job would be and he said 'hospitality manager'. This means standing and welcoming people to breakfast, trying to get them to pay for an English breakfast rather than take the free continental breakfast, and then 'sometimes take some plates to the kitchen'.

In the old days, they called that 'waiting'.

Well, I couldn't be on my feet as much as that anyway; I'd be in bed for a week after the first day. I told Zena I didn't want to be on my feet as much as that, she asked if there was any particular reason and I said my leg was degenerated, and she got angry, saying that it wouldn't be for so long, blah blah.

So I'd have to something, trying to cope with symptoms that no one knows I have... because I can't really say as it's not apparent and no one will believe me, just like in '77 and thereafter, and this is just my karma.

It's six months doing this with self-study towards an abta certificate... so why not just give people the material and let them study towards it?

It's a mill-stone round my neck and I'm going to shake it off. But it doesn't bode so well; what else will I do?

But I was looking for a desk based thing.

But I have this pain that no one can see... and what to do?

I don't know. This guy yesterday told me to write down how I would do the job, like selling breakfasts ect, as a list, and take it back at ten tomorrow for a tour and to be shown what I'd be doing.

So tomorrow I'm going back to say I won't do it, then I'll phone and be hated as a lazy person who wasted everyone's time, and then I have as much as when I reentered UK. Less if anything.

Dear, dear diary.... will you be thinking of me?

What will become of us?

Tuesday 28th Feburary 2006, 8pm

Mocha Cafe, Charing Cross Road

Dream

I was in a supermarket. Some woman before me left her credit card in the reader before me so I called her back. She came and looked at it and said it was an old one and I could keep it. She left and I put it in the machine. The display told me that I could apply for a cheap loan to buy a home. I realised that it was saying that to me because it thought I was her and she had worked long enough to be eligable for that.

Interpretation

People who bum their lives away can't have somewhere to live when they want to.




OK, I did it. I didn't even go, but tried to phone lots of times. A few times from the hostel, then in Bayswater; I ended up just leaving my name. Then I went to Kennsington Gardens. I phoned Travel Academy and said that I wasn't interested. She just sounded deflated and said she'd pass it on. By the time I actually made the call I was actually angry at this weight around my neck.

Then I phoned A. for a long time. M. is OK. They're both mad at G. Apparently he never goes round with the kids, now he's there all the time and it means that I can't see her, and she said it's incinsear (can't spell it; tried a few times). M. wants to stay in the hospital in case something happens. She keeps going on for me to phone Carly. I think she worries that I won't know anyone in the world soon; something we both worry about. A. is excited about the St. John's Wort because of the change in me i.e. I actually spoke to her recently. I hope she doesn't expect too much.

I spent much of today mourning the letters of Junko that A. lost over the years; I can never forgive her for that.

It's a new moon today, admittedly early in the morning. I went to mysteries in Covent Garden and bought a crystal, some fragrant oil, and a little box from India to keep it in. Then I came to Charing Cross Road and went to Walkabout, the Australian pub in Shaftsbury Avenue where I started a new piece of magic.

That's about it. There's other stuff I don't want to say, I can't, to do with the new magic... but I'm also working on that now.

Not sure what my plan is. Probably stay here until Friday, then see M. Here, I want to get another Krugerrand, well, a lot actually. Dunno what else. I'm staying in Torquay Road in Royal Oak at the minute, but smoke outside and am tired, and so shall move tomorrow.



Wednesday ?9th March 2006 around 11pm.

Globetrotter Inn

Not really a nice time. I left here last... Friday I think. Next day I slept a bit late, but had arranged to go and see M. I was looking forward to talking to her. I got the buses down there but didn't arrive until a quarter to five, but decided I'd just stay past visiting hour at five.

She was BAD. I didn't realise until we started talking. It might have been the pills because she told me last time she hid them because she feels doped up, but now they force her to take them.

She was unable to think clearly. There had been talk about her going to stay with Carly. I asked her about it. She became agitated and didn't make sense. She was even aggressive towards her, saying she was f***ing everything up. I realised she was out of it. Each time I said something, she didn't really understand and it made her more angry.

She asked me why I had come alone, and said 'What gives you that privelidge'. The way she said it, I was worried she was going to even become physical. She was this different.

She couldn't remember, or recall, words she wanted to say, and so replaced them with the word 'challenges'. She would hold out her hand and want to say that there's to be a scan on Monday, but she said, 'On Monday I'm having this... challenge'. When she wanted to ask how my interview would go, she asked how my... challenge went. It's like her, strong, to choose such a word, but it's all evidence of serious degeneration.

There's a lung cancer sufferer next to her. She seemed agitated and I had to get a nurse, though it turned out she was OK.

And I noticed M. was talking about me in the third person, saying things like... 'There's never enough food when John comes' ect.

I realised she wasn't following what I was saying, so I just lay back on the bed and listened to her, and thought of how she was in the past.

Her food came at a quarter to six, so I told her I was going. She said come tomorrow but I said Geoff would come, so she said to tell him he can't. I said I couldn't do that.

I turned. She said, 'love you loads', and her eyes went very red while she looked at me. I walked out, through the car park, stood and cried for a long time, then got the bus.

I had no interviews, so I stayed at Anne's for a bit. I made an effort to speak to her, as M. asked me to, but it's hard. I was talking and she accused me of being 'clipped'.

Basically, I did very little up there, mainly sat and thought in Edwards all day. After a few days A. said she would come out the hospital and live with Carly, the social services were going to asses the property, but next day A. said it was cancelled, M. would stay in hospital for good. G. said the nurses started acting funny and he thinks there's not long. I told A. about my year-long premonitions, and she believed me straight away as it's not the first time it's happened.

Later, about ten to twelve

I dunno what else to say; it all seems hopeless. I'm only here for a night, tomorrow I stay in Southwark, Orient Expresso. Then I'm going back to see M. on Friday.

I don't know what to do. Generally. Strangely the magic goes well and my mood is sometimes good; I seem to have more control, and I can only put it down to the St. John's Wort. But, now travel academy has finished. I have no interviews lined up. Hammersmith council refused to house me. I got this thing from the housing office today. The locata scheme, where you bid on properties. Anyway, there are four bands of priority, and I'm a C, 'unsatisfactory housing, housing need identified'. There's a chance I could get lucky, but likely will be not less than seventeen months.

I'm going to buy another ten coins while I'm here. I'll only go north over the weekend. I don't drink in London, and so cost-wise it's not so much more to stay here. But what to do? I suppose, if at least I could get benefits, housed and then do some learn direct course I'm already down for. They keep phoning me but you have to be in receipt of benefits... plus permanently in London. But if I reapply/appeal next week, it could be just a fortnight. I looked in Loot newspaper and there are only a few dss places, but the number is the same on some of them. Maybe, just maybe I can pull it off?

But what's life going to be like, long-term? I never really got on with A. and she is the last person I know. No one writes to me now. I'm not going to have anyone to talk to. Even if I did the course and worked, I'd be coming back to a little room alone each evening.

Then again... did I ever have so much more than that?

Perhaps I should just do one thing at a time. First, get the coins and reapply for the benefit. That's one. Then go like mad to find somewhere the housing will pay for, then do the course, then I've done, everything. I can stop drinking now. Smoking wouldn't be so hard and I'd have almost enough to live on... and be getting somewhere. I was even thinking I could start a 'mobile audio-typing' service, drop off and deliver within zone two. I'd have to be down here permanently though.

Dunno. Hard times.



Wednesday 22nd March 2006

Globetrotter Inn, Hammersmith.

Dream

I went to Anne's and Junko was there. We lived together for a bit, but she had been in England too long and it had corrupted her, she was like an English person.

Interpretation

She once told me that she wouldn't like England, as a country. This dream sums up many things. I'll never settle here; I hate it. Specifically, I hate the people; they're the most arrogant, sarcastic people on the planet.

I just went back to see what had happened since the last entry. As I recall, I went back Friday, then went to see M. on Saturday, yes, that's it; I recall now.

As I was passing the corredor, I passed my 'brother' and Carly. I felt sickened and phoned Anne. I was shaking as it's only the second time I've seen him, and the first since being here. I explained what happened. How can it happen after the whole thing had been arranged, that it was to be my day. A. said, 'but I didn't think that mattered'. Of course, I was badly shaken by the time I saw M. and she was doped but upset at my state. It was very bad for both of us.

I got back and A. was angry. Apparently the consultant had phoned G. to ask him to go, so he rushed down thinking it was bad news but it turned out to be good, the therepy had gone well.

Next day I was sitting in Edwards. I remember A. telling me how hard it was to get information because M's records are confidential and they won't discuss anything with G. or anyone. So I sat and thought, why did they ask him to go down and give him that info.

So I phoned the hospital directly. The consultant is called Dr. Fisher. He made absolutely no call on that day. It was a lie.

So that evening I told A. She was angry. She said she would have a go at him as I had decided by then that I wouldn't go to the hospital anymore. She basically agreed with me.

Next day, she came to the door angry. He had called the hospital, they had said that I had never called and that there was no doctor Fisher. So I said call but she wouldn't. She told me how G. does this and does that and never begrudges me anything. FU***ER, I can't even begin to describe this.

So, always the positive one, she started on about M's will, will I let G. do it or a solicitor will cost ten thousand ect. He's so honest etc. We both ended up in tears and I walked off because I couldn't talk anymore.

I spent the week up there. I sat in either Moon on the Square, Llyods or Edwards until late. It was horrible.

I booked London for the next week and went on the Saturday. We were alone and she was surprisingly well, almost like her old self. I noticed above her bed there's a sign, with her name on and the words: CONSULTANT DR. FISHER, so I photographed it.

I came to London the next day. It was a new place in New Cross Gate near Whitechapel in east London. It was hard to find, wrong directions and misnamed, but then I was in.

Dover Castle Hostel. At first I hated it. The common room was small, rowdy and full of long-termers who knew each other. I went straight to bed below a man. There was an old man of about sixty in the room, weather-beaten. I slept about two hours.

Next day was Monday. I went down and it was OK at breakfast, I was the first. Everyone knew each other, but it was relaxed and rough in a homely way somehow. I came to hammersmith for the day.

Next day the Irish man came to breakfast. He's a Romany and wholly irritating, in everyway.

I had a vague feeling that they accept housing benefit there as one of the residents had a flat found for him by them, and he only pays a little of the rent.

The gypsy sat drinking 'croation coffee', which is coffee and beer, and I realised that he drinks all day and urinates in a bottle at night, in the dorm before everyone.

That day I decided to get some photographs, so I went to the Tate Gallery. I took two, and then realised that there's a woman with a walkie-talkie going round shouting at people who take pictures, so that was pretty much wasted. I got some pictures of St. Pauls but it was overcast.

I'd been sober since leaving Anne's, but this was another very bad night and I don't know what's going to happen. I'm in mental agony most of the time and, strung together, I'm lucky if I get two hours. It's just the way I am. Either drink of be like that.

I got a call from Learn Direct today. Saida called to say she had checked with the job centre and they told her I was getting benefits now, but at the job centre they didn't know anything about it, so I texted her back and said I will call tomorrow after I have an interview with 'my advisor'.

I came back to Globetrotter tonight until Saturday, after then, I don't know what.

I'm feeling bad though. It got bad recently, in these last few days. Things are starting to haunt me. On the way back to the centre today, I passed a black man with a hurt and bemused look on his face, in shock, standing with a five pound note in his hand while a bag lady screamed, asking who he thought he was. I hated it. Now he'll never do it again.

There's a deep feeling of unreality about everything. Nothing feels real anymore. I'm tired of this.

I'm going to be so alone now, I try and reach out to people on the Internet... but it's not real.

Perhaps the magic's being tested? After all this induced happiness, some doubt has to be overcome to test it?

Or not?

Will I ever not think of J. for most of the time?

Whatever. I'm dieting. I just decided. I might as well if I don't drink as I can lose weight, and perhaps I'll have to stop eating altogether at some point? Get a head start.

I've had less than 2500 calories daily since I came here. Today I had, a vegetarian scotch egg; a tomatoe juice, rice and lasagne. I saved half the latter in case I'm hungry later. I reckon 1500 calories today.

But there's a slimming aid, Slimfast. A biscuit is 90 cals, a drink 220. You have two meal replacement drinks, two biscuit snacks, then one meal of 600 calories.

2 drinks @ 220=440
2 snacks @ 90=180
sub total = 620
with meal total =*** 1220

About half of what I need. I'll stick to it... but can I not drink. Tonight is about the first time I've wanted it, something upset me earlier and I can't get it out my mind.

Ypp, time to starve myself.

I'm going to try and sleep in a minute. I hate it. I'm alone bar one today, but he has no luggage and so shall not be in until morning. I hate being alone, even if I don't know the people around me. I just lie there, so full of self-loathing. Sometimes I want to hit me and I daydream and imagine someone is there holding me and trying to calm me, soothe me. I've become this pathetic/insane***

*** Delete as applicable

Nighty... and thanks for being on my side dear diary. If only you could hold me.



Thursday 23rd March 2006 approaching midnight.

Globetrotter, Hammersmith, London.

I signed on today, all went well I guess. I have to go and see Dillon on Monday with all the evidence that I have no money. I drew it out in cash and it looks as funny as hell. I should really go through this.

I tried to print out the picture of M's board with Dr. Fisher on, but the resolution is too low, I'll do it next week.

Last night was both bad and good. I went to the room and there were two girls checked in. They left and I had a bad time, but then just chanted and kind of got into it. I always mouth my mantras a little bit, but then it kind of just started spinning in my head by itself, and I raised independant happiness, and slept fine. I awoke just once when they came home but it was fine. I didn't get less than six hours.

Tonight at ten the reception women came, a couple and their child are in my room but they didn't know it was shared and are about to check out. I looked at an alternative and said it would be OK, even though I didn't like the look of it. They thanked me profusely, even Emma, who is the one who swore at me and left the no snoring sign on my bed. Well, they even went and made my bed. But now, God knows what kind of a night I'll have.

It's freaky friday at Prince Charles Cinema tomorrow; I'm hoping to catch a couple of films and perhaps get some pictures inbetween; I'll probably get my Oyster capped, but not so long now to printing offer expiry.

I've actually had a great day, mood wise. It was sunny and I went to a new place for coffee, the slough or plough or something. I did magic most of the day and was brimming with happiness. Then I came home and went on a downer somehow; can't work out what it is about the evenings.

I think when I leave here Saturday, I won't do so without making a booking back here in London for the Sunday. I've been sober this whole time. Today, again, I 100% stuck to the diet. I had a 220c. meal replacement drink for breakfast, even though I was up in time for a proper one, two 90 cal snacks, then tonight a 395c spaghetti, 350c rice, two 19c crispbreads and a single low fat cheese triangle, oh, and a tomato juice, but the baby one. I don't know exactly. I only ate half the spaghetti and rice and put the rest in my lunch box, and so shall see if I can go without it. I did yesterday. I reckon today I'm on 1800 absolute tops, more like 1450?

I think a lot about the April premonitions; I still wonder if they're about me or M. How can my insides look, but perhaps... I don't know. I'm swinging between extreme pessimism and optimism.

And I miss J. all the time.

Which is nuts.

But I do.

(don't tell her; she'd be angry)

25th March 2006 1:45am.

I went to bed last night, and as well as the bed being made, there was a Ribena drink and a KitKat on my pillow, which was really nice. I'll give it to Mother tomorrow... actually, later today, as it's Mothering Sunday the day after. I was out today and it turned out that the cheapest card for a pound is actually my favourite painting, Night Cafe by Van Gough, which I'm sure you've forgotten by now, was actually on exhibition in Paris when I was there, and was in that little cafe I used to go to when I first got back to London.

I spoke to A today. M is lucid and declared that Saturdays are my days and she doesn't want to see him nor anyone. This is what she told me the last time. I offered to go twice a week but she said come Saturdays. So G. was a little premature in taking over. He has to wait until he can do as he pleases with A.

I didn't make it to the cinema. I've stuck to the diet 100% and have been teetotal, but the sleep problem's coming back. As far as I can tell I've started sleeping long enough, but can't fall asleep at the right time. I must perseve though. I'm only at A's tomorrow night, I've booked 639 and a new place, plus Globetrotter for next week starting Sunday. So I'll be sober... even if it means sitting up there all night. I have to, want to see M. than A and I are eating at the Taj Imperial, though I'll just have rice or something.

That's pretty much the news. I'm so happy in Globetrotter, but they've messed up the prices. It goes up and down daily for advance booking. I just booked next Friday for ten pounds, but the next week is seventeen and you have to wait for it to come down. That does't make sense, not from a business point of view. Maybe it'll be a busy year here?

Well, I'll try and sleep. Will write when I'm back, more news and the saga continues...

like there's anyone reading this! Are you reading this?

Hahahaha. Text me! 07914629142



Sunday 26th March 2006

Hostel 639, Kensal Green, North London. About 10:30pm.

Not too bad.

I went up to Milton Keynes. M is well again, although the cheme has made her hair fall out. We had a really good talk. Emma in the hostel actually gave me sixteen pounds in cash after bending the rules because 'I had done them a favour', and it had put me in a good mood.

M has got chemo, or radio or som

Sunday 1st April 2006 April Fools Day, about 12:30am.

Globetrotter, Hammersmith, London.

Something went wrong with the computer there, though it's hard to believe that it was a week ago, nearly.

I was saying that M's got chemo, or radio or something, all this week, today will be her first day off, so I have to phone to see how she is before I go, she told me to ask for Wayne.

What have I done this week. Weeeelllll. Good news first. S.O.B.E.R. haven't touched a drop. So today it's two weeks exactly. Also, stuck to the diet 100%; haven't slipped up since I started.

I started the week in Kensal Green. It's OK up there. The microwave was down so I ended up baking stuff, but it all turned out nice and I have a new little one pound lunch box to put things in, the food I mean.

The day I checked out there, Wednesday morning I think, I walked around Kensal Green Cemetary, which is behind the hostel. It was grey and raining and I got to thinking... about M. of course. It brought things home of course and I ended up having a little cry there.

After that I went up to a new place in Belsize Park. It was a shock. Right near Ealing. The guy who checked me in was like Jeeves, he had a face just like a butler, manner to go with it, and a perfect pin-striped suit. The place was like, palatial, though the guests were the same you get anywhere. There was a Spanish person with an American accent, the rest were Turks and French. The bedroom was lovely, proper beds, it was more like a hotel proper than a hostel.

I went over to Westminster to take some pictures for my free printing offer. I ended up over at the Millenium wheel or whatever it is. There was an exhibition of Japanese Animee, which is nice because all the pictures will be sent to Junko of course.

That morning I'd gone to Camden market and took pictures of the animee tee-shirts to show J. how popular Japanese culture is here. It turns out they were counterfeit and I ended up being shouted at because the woman didn't want pictures.

I reapplied for the benefit. A guy just took the papers, he didn't even want to see statements, even though the forms ask you to bring them. Though he did say that I would probably hear this week.

Globetrotter is now 17 Sterling a night except for Sundays, so I'm only going to be here then from now on. If that goes up I don't know what I'll do as I use this address for my post, and it's really the only place in the borough that will let me stay on the housing list here.

I met this Irish plasterer in William Morris the other day. He was wrecked of course... and not significant.

So, there isn't really any other news. The magic still goes surprisingly well and I spend a fair amount of time inspiring happiness and chanting. My mala beads broke on the new moon, and I have to get something to repair them in N/pton.

Tomorrow, or actually later today, I return and see M. Then I might eat with Anne. Did I say we went to the Indian place. I only had rice and raita so it was expensive. She didn't have so much because it was late. I don't really want to tdo it this week, well, today. Not ever actually; I didn't like the place -- but if I don't do that, we'll never speak to each other.

April starts today. I keep thinking about all the premonitions I've had about this month. Back in Colva, I had the J4 message, and here in Globetrotter I had the 'tequilla sunrise' vision. That most recent diary page I lost, I spent nearly all the time worrying about what it meant. I was scared to the build up to Jan 4, June 4 ect. April is about the last thing it could mean. But what? Is it me? What's going to happen this month?

All I can do is live it and find out.

I, and I don't want to say it but it came to me when I was in the graveyard... I mean, I can't imagine how lonely it will be without M. I'll be in the world and not close to anyone. No one to share good or bad news with.

... can't imagine it.



Sunday 2nd April 2006 About 11pm

Globetrotter, Hammersmith.

Oh, I've only been gone a little while; it feels like ages.

Yes, I slept and woke in good time. Went up and M is fine. We had a good chat. There's a woman opposite her who had to have some procedure done behind a curtain, and screamed through the entire process. Also a new woman next to her. She doesn't like her because the family are selfish. M wanted me to fix her up and audio-book. She asked me last week, to do it this week. So I set it up and it worked. But then when I changed tapes a little piece fell out.

M wanted to be able to do it herself so I tried to explain it, but when she pressed the button, nothing happened, she thought she couldn't do it hard enough. I realised somehow it had broke when the piece fell out. It was horrible because she's bored and was wanting something to do.

She's been trying to read and practice her signature. It still isn't as it was, the handwriting I mean, but it's better, it's at least recognisable. It still all breaks my heart though.

I had said to A from Euston that I didn't want to eat out, so I left and sat in Edwards. It was 'flirty friday' and I ended up feeling stupid surrounded by nurses in suspenders, so came back and was there for nine thirty. She stayed away until four, which meant that I pretty much had to, but then I still managed to get up by ten and leave on the just gone midday bus.

So then I came back, made vegetarian mince. Emma put me in a room by myself, so I definitely get special treatment. I just checked and it seems, for now as the price keeps going up, that Globetrotter is a set seventeen now. Don't know if that will last, we'll see, but if so then I'll have to think of not keeping my bag here I suppose. I don't know.

I spend almost all my time thinking about J. From when I wake up to when I go to bed. More than usual. I don't know why. It's a problem I should try and solve I suppose... but, I ... I think I'll go to bed soon.

Tomorrow there's an editors job I want to apply for, then I'm staying in Olave House in Earl's Court. The pics don't look great and the reviews say it's cramped and dirty. I don't really mind.

Quite a bad day today actually. Don't know why? There was a lovely rainbow on the way down, then leaving the train I found a load of money. Perhaps when magic gets close, doubts get thrown in your face?

Don't know. Don't know. Don't know.

Friday 7th April 2004

Grenwich High Street, in a Spanish Restaurant, about 4pm.

I just sat looking at the observatory.

All I ever think about is Junko. I just counted today, earlier. We wrote for eight years, and I haven't heard for four.

I think I might be accepting I might never be well, it's obvious. I wake up with vague dreams, them have memories over breakfast. I thought I might ban thoughts as a spiritual exercise.

I'm sick and tired of being alive.

I struggle daily with magic, to try and think of something else, elevate my mood with positive possibility; it's my last chance.

I hate, hate, hate this; I don't want to be here. This country; this life.

Sunday 9th April 2006, about half ten at night

Hostel 639, Kensal Green, North London

So I wrote on Sunday, and then just had my rubbish day in Grenwich. Let me think what actually happened.

I left Monday. Globetrotter owed me 20p and Emma said she'd put a note for the next booking, and at the time I was thinking that I might not go again because the price had gone up so much.

I think I walked to Hammersmith and sat there all day. In the evening I went to the new place, Olave in Ealing Broadway. A nonchalent Eastern European woman checked me in, but there was no key. I went to the room and there was a Polish man my age who said that he had just come and was hoping to improve his English.

I went downstairs. I wasn't sure what the cooking facilities would be like so I had brought cold stuff. I went down to the common room, but looking in, it was cold and dark and rowdy and pally, so I went for a walk to look for somewhere else.

I walked forever, but the only place I could really sit was a bus stop, so I kept going. I ended up by chance sitting outside the large Sainsburys near Glouster Road Station, opposite where I once previously stayed. It was a miserable time and cold, so I had my six hundred calories and walked back.

Next day I also went to Hammersmith, I think, and then I walked all the way back. In the morning I had had coffee downstairs and discovered that the kitchen wasn't so bad, and so had bought hot food. I cooked and ate at the table, and then went to bed.

Wednesday I walked to the Natural History Museum. The second time I went, it's strange to go back to a place where I was dragged round on school-trips; all I kept flashing back to was being constantly shouted at. I really went because they sell some cheap crystals.

I sat outside near the science museum and the Polish man from the room turned up by chance. We got talking. He's looking for work in a kitchen. His father is a sailor. He lived in Canada for six years and was naturalised. In Poland he had been teaching infants English and working for a car company. But he lost his job; the teaching was just for cash, but it didn't make enough and so he left, because all he has in Poland is his parents.

He said he was leaving the next day, to Brook. I questioned him further and realised it was Stamford Brook, and he's checked in at Globetrotter. I said I would go with him the next day, and show him where the job centre was.

I went home and cooked.... No, I didn't; b/s. I went to the new age shop in Covent Garden, didn't see anything I liked and so went to the church after unsuccessful clothes shopping, then I walked to Leister Square, THEN I came and cooked.

Next day I was up early. I sat with a tired looking woman at breakfast, and then went with the Polish man, Vito, to Hammersmith. We chatted. He came accross as a quiet, passive kind of man. As far as I can tell he never got married. Just, kind of went everywhere. I checked him in and took him to the job centre. He was pleasent enough, but seemed fairly keen to be left alone, though he was always friendly; perhaps he didn't want to intrude. Before we left he had kept making comments about it being OK if I didn't want to go. Perhaps he had worked out that I'm a secret monster and was trying to save his aura?

In the evening I emailed him and warned him to plan ahead for Easter.

Next day I checked out. I went straight to the train, onto DLR and got off at Grenwich. I saw the cutty Sark and a couple of buildings, then sat in St. Christophers on the High Street waiting to be able to check in. It was OK there.

Everyone was nice to me. I put my stuff upstairs, then went out again. The Royal Observatory was up a hill and it was too steep for me to get to. I went to the Maritime Museum, but a woman snapped at me when I took a picture, so I actually left almost as soon as leaving. It was weird. I'd been looking at posters about it on the Underground for a week and decided to stay there and make a day of it, then ended up walking in, resting, thinking it was great, and then walking out again straight away.

I rested outside for a bit, then came home and showered. I bought a little book about happiness and read it, then went up and showered after the friendly staff gave me free tea. I washed. When I went in the room a man startled me by suddenly swinging the door open just as I was inserting my keycard, so much so that my keycard stayed in the door.

He laughed and asked if I'd made him jump. When I said he had, he joked that he'd been lying in wait all day.

My leg was very bad, so I went down to the common room to eat. There was a film on about a child assasin, Matilda I think. I saw it in Bangkok and JUnko once mentioned it in writing, so I didn't want to see it. I went up and read my book in the bar. A. was supposed to phone but didn't so I phoned her from outside and she was asleep.

All is OK with M. She's having a wig fitted Tuesday, a stairlift sometime in the week so she can go home and not to Carly's, and I am still to go the next day (Saturday).

I checked out next day, bought some weight-watchers beans and went for the train. It was down, so a replacement bus to Canada Water, then tubed to Euston and went North to see M.

She was well. She'd had trouble with her audiobook and so I fixed that. The woman next to her, Barbara Poppelhill or something, was attacked in her home and was there resting. M didn't like her because the week previous she had, or her visitors had, monopolised the bed. Apparently M. had had a go at her and scared her, saying, 'Stay away from my bed when my son comes on Saturdays!'.

Another time, this woman had gone 'on and on about her pets', and then asked about M's pets. M said she didn't have any and the woman seemed shocked, so M. snapped that she had two children. I said why only two, and she said, 'My daughter's disowned me and I've disowned her'. Apparently, G. had decided that she had a right to know, but Y. had said she couldn't care less.

Then Barbara shuffled off to the toilet. M. said how she never does anything for herself, including brush her shoulder length hair. As she left it was sticking up in a circular footlong halo, and I looked at M. and we burst out laughing.

There's a new Asain woman. M hates her because she coughs loudly without a hand over her mouth. Apparently no one likes her. She was checked in and just lay on the bed for twenty-four hours with her sari on because, 'it takes some people time to adjust'. She had lay there all night crying for water, but no one came because she's not popular.

M. hates the way G. took everything over, including the stairlift; she says it all the time.

I left and caught the train in. I sat in the Rat and Parrot until nine thirty. It got really rowdy and the raunchy (and loud) dressed up nurses were there. I got a book in Grenwich about a man with amnesia. I'd say I forgot what it's called, but that's a rubbish joke. Actually, it's infront of me: Forever Today, by Deborah Wearing. It's OK I guess; it passed time.

I went to A's. She was OK. I went up and slept, rising this morning at eight thirty.

I came here, back to 639 in Kensal Green in London. My bed is on the fourth floor, but cramped, no ladder, full of long-termers and a man who told me to f*** off when I slammed the door. I went downstairs to move, but it's full. I'm in another bed for tomorrow. I can try checking later to see if someone didn't check in, but I might have to sit up all night. I hate this place for that. It's that absurd Kareoke tonight. I hope somehow a different member of staff can get me a bed. If not, it's not the end of the world... I guess. I'll just have to find the least noisy place, rest my head and try and visualise.

I cooked, ate, went on a massive downer thinking of how alone I'll be soon, but perhaps it was just a bad mood about the bed?

Then I came here and here I sit, typing.

It's frustrating. I finally sort my sleep cycle out after a decade, get some kind of a routine, and now I might be sitting in a hard chair all night. Still, these things happen I guess.

Not sure what I'm going to try and accomplish this week. I must start a new diary page, there are far too many pictures on here, and I've started on the blank memory card now.

Notice above how I mentioned I only ever think of J. twice, forgetting I did so.

Why? She didn't and doesn't want me.

... can't help myself.

Oh god, I'm yawning; it could well be a poor night of feeling sad and tired... but you never know; tonight could be the best night of my life... and if that's not positive thinking then I don't know what is.

... and so to the millions of people who put a stop to their daily routine to follow my fascinating life in awe and envy...

... or actually to the pathetic geek who couldn't sleep, came here by accident after misspeling a search term and even then didn't read this far...

... or to whatever it is that watched over all of us... please have the most wonderful evening.

...

That would be a good end to the entry today. But I remembered, I was alone in the kitchen earlier, considering how alone I'll soon be. I realised that I don't know anyone. I mean... soon, I'll be alive here (possibly) in the world, and I won't know a.n.y.o.n.e.... and I don't know if I can live like that. I know I've never really known anyone... but I've never had no one... just been no one.

Oh, please let me sleep nicely, somehow.



Monday 10th April 2006

Hostel 639, Kensal Green, North London

It was OK. I went and stood in the street, thought about it, decided what the hell and went up. I recalled there had been someone sitting on a chair when I went up, so perhaps I could use that.

As it turned out, there was a chair, and a guy watching TV on his bed really loud, so I didn't really bother anyone, and I got in and out OK... I even went out to the toilet about two am.

Bah, all that worry.

But thanks for letting me sleep.

Not sure what to do today, either go to Leister Square or over to Hammersmith. I'm in Shepards Bush tomorrow (thank God), so I'll have a think about it?

Feeling a bit better, yeeaaahhhhh. I'll have to cook twice tonight because there's no cooker at Shepards Bush... unless I have cold stuff? I had vegetarian shepards pie, sweetcorn and spinach yesterday; it's good to have a lot of vegetables, because you can get a lot of volume of food for not so many calories.



Monday 10th April 2006

Hostel 639, Kensal Green, North London, about ten to eleven pm.

Not a bad night at all; although today I've walked far, far too far. I went to Covent Garden, bought a small swede bag for my crystals, looked at clothes shops, got a little lost, was shocked at how close I was to Charing Cross, sat and had carrots and cucumber snacks outside the actors' church, went to walkabout, saw Wallace & Grommit at Prince Charles Cinema, looked for cheap flights at Mocha Cafe, went shopping for food in Picadilly, came home and cooked a nut and leek roast, which was nice with tomatos and mushrooms for less than 600 calories, then I came and typed this. I had planned to do other things on the computer, but it's pretty slow, so I thought I'd keep you uptodate, because I know that you do worry about me.

I had a quick look through yesterday, and realised how many mistakes there were, sorry for that, dear diary, though you know that my words are always heartfelt.

I feel so up and down on a moment to moment basis, it's frightening. Like walking to the computer, I was nearly on a high, nothing is bothering me... other times, in the same moment also, the whole world seems ominous, the universe heavy, dark, forbading... oppressive ------ and suddenly light. It is a strange, strange ... I don't know.




Pictures from the new Olympus Camera

I got an Olympus Camedia in the sales, I think it was January. It's not quite as good as the Nikon, two main reasons. You can't downgrade the image size, you have to choose in advance. Also, there's no temperature balance, so under certain lighting, there's a very strong cast.

You can click on any picture to see its source. Some of them I've uploaded a fairly full file, others are only stored at thumbs.



The William Morris pub in King Street, Hammersmith. Kind of my local now. I'm not sure why that's my first picture if I bought the camera in Northampton, but it is. This Hammersmith pub has the same menu as Lylods in Northampton.



The kitchen in Globetrotter Inn. Great. Industrial strength microwaves mean you have to half the cooking times. You eat in the dining room and leave the dishes on a designated table, and they employ two shift workers to do the washing up. i.e. you never have to wash up there.





Two doodles I did quite some time previously in The Rat and Parrot in Northampton, while not in the best of moods.



Clapham Junction Job Centre on Friday 13th January, where I was interviewed by Reece Bigwood (?) from the Travel Academy.



Statue in Whiteleys Shopping Centre, Bayswater









Kitchen and common area of The Royal Bayswater Hotel, where I stayed once, around latish January? Not sure why the pics appeared speckled here.



The dining room in Globetrotter, where you're not allowed to do your own washing up.



Smoking/relaxing room in Globetrotter. Sometimes a bit cold, but usually things going on.



Someone left this on my bed when I checked in once. It was perhaps meant as a joke, but really hurt my feelings; I don't do that on purpose!



Globetrotter smoking room from a different angle. It looks a weird colour as I've tried to correct a colour cast.



William Morris in Hammersmith from the outside. It has a dark blue sign, behind the fountains some way in the distance.



Sign in Globetrotter bar, colour-cast uncorrected.



Edwards bar in Drapery, Northampton.



Anne's lounge in disarray during decoration.



Manish, some awful leech who latched onto me in Globetrotter.



Burgerking at Victoria Coach Station, just before my interview at Heathrow... which I subsequently failed.



Manesh irritating person.



Imperial Raj take-away, opposite Anne's house.



M. in BHS, days before the fatal diagnosis. She was really down, and it's very likely the last time I'll see her there.





In BHS.



The Rat and Parrot, Northampton.



Rat and Parrot food: Sweet potato and potato wedges, salad and sour cream.



Cooking my own noodles in the front bedroom at Anne's house. Conversly, the noodles were really yellow, but came out white under the daylight. Colour is this camera's downfall.



The White Elephant pub, opposite Anne's.



Me phoning M in hospital from Anne's bedroom (with her permission) due to the high phone costs. She sounded very resigned and ... I don't know.



Visiting M. in Milton Keynes Hospital on 17th Feburary 2006. The bus driver was new and we ended up on the hard shoulder while he phoned back to the depot for directions.



Hospital entrance.







M. in the hospital. She had been put in a nicer room for some reason, rather than the general ward, though previously she was treated badly enough.



Hospital from the outside as I left. I ended up crying at the bus stop, then a long trek to the coach bay and continue to London for an interview the next day.



Cheap cafe at Milton Keynes coach bay.



There was a really bad traffic jam on the way to London that night; I've never headed down so late before and so wasn't expecting it. That night, I had to launder all of my clothes and sleep.



Next day I had about three minutes spare to iron my shirt for the interview. I love the light in this picture though.







I didn't manage to find polish until the morning of the interview, so I was cleaning my shoes outside of the tube station near Heathrow.





The Jurys Inn Hotel, where the interview was held. I knew from the minute I walked in that I could never work in a place like that, and evidently the manager thought the same way.



That afternoon I moved to Dumil Bed and Breakfast, in Holland Road, Olympia -- one of the hardest places I've ever stayed in.



Mocha Cafe, Charing Cross Road.







Picadilly lights and the state of Eros... as they call it; though I've heard that it's actually the Christian spirit of Charity?





Tube going home to Olympia.







Pub opposite Dumil Backpackers. Can't remember what it was called, possibly Sepulchre?















A letter I left before leaving UK the second time. I left it in the box I'm bequeathing to Junko to explain my eccentricity. But since I got back I realised that it's eccentric in itself, so I preserved it here and destroyed it.



The kitchen in Dumil. I have the feeling it used to be a dss place trying to become a backpacker place, as they advertise in TNT now. The photo here doesn't convey the shabbiness.





Changing trains at Earl's court tube station.



Kings Mall, Hammersmith.



Art work in William Morris.





I moved to Ace Hotel soon after, and realised that it was within walking distance of Hammersmith, though on the way home my legs used to really hurt and I had to rest near a petrol station on Hammersmith Road.











Ace Hotel. The colour casts are really bad here, in reality, it looked much nicer, very clean and modern.



One of the few (or only?) silver linings at the minute; I'm feeling much better, all considering, since I started them.





These two pictures of Ace Hotel do it much more justice.



Hammersmith Library, where I went to check the phonebook, for bullion merchants, and for storage companies, should I want to leave the country at some point and store my last little case... full of gold!







Hammersmith Job Centre.




New Pictures, added from same card but at a later date. All unsized and unclickable.







The cybercafe in Kings Road where I downloaded the images.





The Internet cafe in Globetrotter.



Brewer Street in London. It's weird; I pulled this out an old diary from the eighties as I'd been there when I'd visited London with my sister. Then, when I got back ten years later, I was living in a room for a few days where I could see the exact same sign.





This was some pub in Holborn on Junko's birthday. I was there to buy the gold so it was just near the bank.



I didn't have time, so I went to Hammersmith to sign on as an unemployed person, then I went back and bought an ounze of pure gold. This picture above is the Nationwide Building Society where I withdrew the money. It's the blue sign on the left of the building.



Returning to Holborn, I went up the escalator (?) towards the bullion dealer.



The best cinema in the world, Prince Charles in Lester Place. Junko would have liked it there, and used to LOVE the cinema. Ironically, the film I saw was Japanese, though I didn't know it until it started.





Walkabout pub in Soho, actually an Australian pub, which is why I went there. I sat with an orange juice and a soda, toasted J. and had a good think.

























The Krugerrand. One Troy Ounze of 24 Karat 99.9% pure gold. I put it with the receipt in Junko's box. This was as much an exercise about using macro and its limits as much as anything.



Letter Academy, for archive purpose.



Receipt for the gold, with Junko's birthday as the date.



Junko's birthday present.



Cinema ticket for the Japanese film, same date. It was a strange story. I couldn't concentrate, then I haven't seen a film all the way through for at least six months. It was something about the afterworld being full and ghosts being lonely. Perhaps it was a message for me, but if it was: I missed it.











The letter I left in the suitcase containing my only possessions, for the Red Cross, so they would know what to do with my stuff should anything happen to me. I put it there before leaving for Asia the second time, but have now removed it.



Victoria rail station on the way back to A's house.





People buying tickets in Victoria Coach Station.



The waiting room in Victoria Coach Station.





Returning back to Northampton Bus Station. Notice the very strong colour casts.



Welcome to Northampton sign people see as they enter the shopping centre. There was a program about ugly buildings on recently. Northampton bus station came in like, the third most ugly building in the country.



Underexposed.



I don't like the colours in this shot, but really like the lines.



Inside the bus station.



Getting on the bus to A's.



The bus left me opposite A's house, then left towards Rectory Farm.



A's front door without flash.



A's front door with flash.







Bad pictures of A. One the flash is too harsh (I'll try tissue paper to diffuse it in future). The others have a strong colour cast.



Next morning I waited at the bus stop into town near A's, to go and see M in Milton Keynes Hospital.



Northampton Market.



Bus to Milton Keynes, artificial light.



View from the bus



Bus interior under natural light. Actually, if you look above, the one with the slight cast is nicer, the temperature is nicer.

When I finally got to Milton Keynes, G was there, though so I glanced at M, she is too ill to know I was there and his children have never met me. A told me the other night that M. hates him going. She said that she never saw him or his family usually, and now they go all the time while she's dying; it's insincere, her words. She was angry he was there and though she couldn't see me.



Bus stop by A's going into town. It shows when the next bus will come, but only one company.



View up the Kettring Road from the bus stop.



Receipt from the library, when I paid for the book I lost in Oxford at the new year: One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest.



My trusty Nokia phone





Travel card for the London Underground.





The lighting display leaving BHS. Whenever I go through any kind of display like I always think of my and Junko in Perth, going through a furniture display and choosing the things we would like for out theoretical house.



Grovsner shopping centre, going back to London on the Sunday.





Buses near where the Victoria coach stops.

















Having a coffee at Victoria station in London and playing with the exposure controls to try and remove the colour cast.













Doing the same thing in Victoria Underground Station.



The district line was down, so we had to have a replacement bus to Stanford Brook.



Internet cafe in Globetrotter.



On the way to the interview the next day, which was in the same street as Chelsea football club.





In the hotel waiting to be interviewed by the manager.

When I asked what my duties would include, he mentioned hard-selling breakfasts and taking plates to the kitchen.















I went to William Morris afterwards. As well as thinking how to get out of that hotel commitment, I again played with the exposure controls.



I then moved to Torquay House in Royal Oak.



I ended up sitting here all night in the cold.







It wasn't a great hostel to be honest. It turned out I knew the receptionist. He checked me in months ago when I stayed in Earls Court.







No idea why I took pictures in the toilet.



Next day at eleven I was still there, not having gone back to the hotel as requested. I sat and tried to phone them to say I wanted to leave the course, but the manager was in a meeting.



I tried again in the Whiteleys centre sitting on a fountain. When I looked up it was weird. There were two Valentines day balloons that someone had let go and the helium was keeping them there, like hearts trying to soar but being stopped.



The fountain statue, which I already photographed but from a different angle.



I never did get to speak to the manager. I kept putting off calling the travel centre, but when I did it was easy, though not nice. I just said I was done with it and that was that. This was in Kennsington Gardens where I made the call by the cafe, which is right in the distance in this shot.

After I phoned A. She was well and we talked for ages about nothing really. She wants me to do a takeout with her. I haven't ate with her for... fifteen years? She thinks the St. John's wort have made me who I once was. Ha.





Bayswater Underground station. Everytime I pass here I always think of the Korean who used to flirt with me. She used to hand leaflets out here. The second picture is a police report of a recent race assult. Welcome to London. All the times I've been racially insulted, they never put up a poster for me.



This was all the same day. After Kennsington Gardens I went to Mysteries, the new age shop in Monmouth Street. It was a new moon and I was starting a new piece of magic.







Afterwards I went to St. Pauls, the famous church assosiated with actors. I consecrated a crystal I had bought there.

There were plaques for the actor Boris Karloff there, plus Noel Coward and Charlie Chaplin.









Outside, behind a bench dedicated to the actress Berol Reed, there's a fountain which I'm pretty sure is of the God of the sea, Neptune. I bathed the crystal there.





I went to the cinema after and saw Broken Flowers. It was hard to concentrate again, but I managed to get through it.











Then I went to Walkabout in Soho where I decided what the magic was for, and did the first piece of it there at the table.

I think the waitress thought I was mad.

I think I am too.









Again, I don't know why I took these pictures in Torquay House. I can't remember doing it.







Next day I was staying in St. Christopher's Inn, Borough High Street, near London Bridge. This is Southwark Cathedral on the way.



I really liked this street name.







That night I didn't want to drink again, so after a brief nap I went out and had a hot chocolate and took Valerian to sleep. It turned out to be the most painful, sleepless night I've had for ages, but I was sober I guess.















The reception is St. Christophers. I ended up taking a call from Anne there. She said there was money waiting for me from M. there, but everyone keeps going on about me speaking to Carly, i.e. they want me to start.





I watched TV in the common room for a bit. An Australian woman asked me to join her, but the group was a bit loud and I declined.



Notice in the bathroom in St. Christophers.









Hostel 639 in Kensal Green.





When I went to the toilet there, there was some handwritten note in the toilet that someone had partially burnt, like a painful love letter, or perhaps magic?













You could see the local graveyard from the toilets.













Common area with wall art. Weird place. A mix of old and young, in the evening an old man did kareoke, and as naff as it was, everyone got into it the more they drank.

















Kensal Green Underground station... which like most of the stations outside of the centre, is actually overground.





Next day I was off to see M. I looked out the bedroom at A's at there was frost/snow.





The woman opposite M. has lung cancer; she looks at deaths door. She started moaning and I had to get a nurse, but it turned out she was OK and I felt dumb.





Mother was incoherent, the drugs dulled her mind and she couldn't really follow the conversation.









New Tung Shing Cantonese takeaway near A's. I remember this place from the seventies and missed it so much I even wrote about it when I was in Asia, though I went there rarely. It had this affect on me. Everyone hated Asians then, so I felt this affinity. I used to be there as a kid and was happy that something other than England existed.

































Things I was going to put on ebay, and still am except for this book someone sent me. He met me through my web site The New Writers' Network and I gave him some help, and he sent me a signed book when he was eventually published. He was a South African reporter, but sent it from Ireland. After all I ever did on the web to help people, this is the only thing I got back... which is fine. I decided not to sell it.

















Other ebay ware. It's almost painful to look at the Holland book now. What ever happened to John?





Llyods bar in Northampton...





which serves the best nachos in Northampton... dare I say.... no actually I dare not as I haven't been to every country in the world.









Withdrawing all the cash from my accounts. God knows what shall happen now.

















Book blurbs to sell on ebay.





Ticket back to London. I missed it and got a return down on the train so thought I'd sell the coach one, then realised it's valid for three months... so I still have it. I use the train now as it's convenient to get down at Milton Keynes.

















Laundry room at Globetrotter. I took four trying to remove the colour cast and partially managed it on the last one by using the 'night architecture' setting.













Visiting M. on the way back. That isn't her walking frame as far as I know. She seemed far more lucid and we had a good talk.













Moon on the Square on the Market Square, Northampton... with a strange carpet.





I did the magic there. I'm still doing the same as I started in Walkabout on Shaftbury avenue, and time my chanting and positivity on the phone's stopwatch.





I went to see M. again. Geoff had lied that Dr. Fisher even existed when he said that he never called him to the hospital, so I took a picture of this above M's bed to prove it. A will be on my side when she see's it, until she forgets and is hypnotised by him once more.













Mother seemed really well that day, the best since she's been there. She'd been for chemotherepy at Northampton hospital and again, we had a good chat.









I came back to London and stayed at a new place in New Cross Gate near Whitechapel in East London. It was OK. The toilet seat was decorated with dolphins.





















I went to the tate gallery to get some pictures for the special printing offer that came with the camera. When I got there all these people in orange jackets were walking about snapping at people who took pictures, even if it was out the window. So I left pretty much straight away.





















I did get some pictures of St. Paul's Cathedral, plus a school sign leaving millenium bridge.

















Common room in Dover Castle Hostel. Cramped there but a good atmosphere.









The sky over Ravenscourt Park near Globetrotter. The white lines in the picture are the exhausts from planes heading towards nearby Heathrow.

















Me in Globetrotter.





Me in Ravenscourt Park a little later.






Last pictures before making a new diary page.

I think it's better to make new pages as the memory card expires, that way I won't get my backing up mixed up.













Me in Globetrotter.

















The Slough and something, a pub in Kings Road, Hammersmith.





Waiting to sign on at Hammersmith Job Centre.





Watching TV in Globetrotter.





























In and around Euston Station, including the statue of Stevenson, the inventor of railways, and the Virgin train to Northampton.

































Visiting M in hospital the day before Mother's day, where I gave her the KitKat. The Dr. Fisher board is the doctor that G lied about and said didn't exist. The card just happens to be the cheapest in the shop, which just happens to be my favourite Van Gogh paining, night cafe, on special exhibition when I was in Paris, and displayed as reproduction in the little cafe I used to sit in at Picadilly when I first returned UK.

























The menu card at the hospital. M can't fill it in because she can't see, but I did it for her and put silly comments down, like asking if the consultant will come and feed her and can she have venicine. Apparently, they don't have a sense of humour and she ended up with no food.









Painting by M's bed, entitled, 'Approaching Storm Clouds'. I remarked to her that it's a strange choice of painting for an oncology ward and she laughed.





I went and stayed again in Hostel 639 in Kensal Green the day after.













I've stuck to the diet since I started it.

























Things at the Natural History Museum.





These sunflowers in the Science Museum had been preserved in a silicon gel.













A euthanasia machine. Answer a few questions on a laptop and it releases you; briefly legal in Australia. I think I'll order one.





Cat with extra toes. Behind this there was an interactive computer teaching all about hereditary DNA. While I was playing with it I found my own condition, so I stopped.





My mala broke on the new moon exactly, and I stupidly tried to superglue it.





Withdrawing money for Junko's kerugerrand on her birthday.





























































Kensal Green Cemetary, behind hostel 639. I only went there as an afterthought while waiting for the off-peak fares.









Images from the Underground.









William Morris bar, Hammersmith.





My crystals.





















Flowers in a garden centre at the exit to Ravenscourt Gardens.

















Surprisingly posh hostel up by Ealing run by the London Hostel Association.





Next day I walked to Camden and passed a canal.





Camden Market. A Chinese woman shouted at me when I took these pictures because they were counterfiet.





























































I went to Westminster to get pictures to avail my free photo offer.





This statue commemorates British people who died fighting faschism in the Spanish civil war.





































































































Around Westmimster. There was an animee exhibiton I popped in. I've played around with some of the pictures using software.













Outside Hammersmith station, the Broadway centre actually.









William Morris. I really like the blurred shot there, it looks lively.













Seeing M in hospital again. Note that she's wearing a wig where her hair fell out. The notepad is where she's been practicing her signature because she's bored. When the cassette machine broke and she couldn't have an audiobook it really broke my heart.









































Coming back to London the next day I was in a sad moon, though the signs were good. A lovely rainbow that lasted ages, then finding a load of money. Since I started the magic, then all money I find I keep to give to charities on full moon; it goes in the magic box until then; so this was a good omen.









Emma gave me a room to myself in Globetrotter.

















A school group outside Globetrotter, the bar, I took these sentimentally as the price has gone up and I didn't know if I'd be back there.





I decided to rethread my mala with green thread I got back in Northampton... of course I've glued up the marker bead, and now need acetone to see if I can get it off.





Ealing Broadway on the way to Olave House. This is how it looked, though I took a lot that made it look like daylight.





Sitting outside the hostel at night, I phoned A. and heard that M. might go home this weekend.





Next day, I made tasteless weightwatchers soup.





The back of the hostel. The sky was really blue, but the camera won't capture it.





Natural History Museum. This was all today actually.









The actors church in Covent Garden. I consecrated new crystals there. I noticed in the gardens there are trees with pink flowers. I don't know what they're called but I recall the Japanese consider them a sign of spring.













Magic. I have some vague idea that, in the same way you can ask your mind to wake you up at a certain time when sleeping, perhaps you could ask it to direct energy?





And finally, earlier I went back to Walkabout in Shaftsbury Avenue for an orange juice... and that was my day.



Further below are my favourite full size images of this diary page. The diary itself continues by clicking this sentence........... ............................ .........................or one of the full stops...........






























Below are links to full size versions of my favourite images.


Ironing my shirt for the interview



Underground train in Victoria



Coffee in Victoria Railway Station



Mother's Day



William Morris



Olave Breakfast



Sad Angel



William Morris Bar




Diary continued by clicking this link....