I only find time to write when I am preheating the oven.

Walking earlier and I kept feeling like I was going to fall down a manhole and then walked past a man who looked exactly like Barack Obama but with a Turkish haircut. My legs are so heavy and my feet are pointing in the wrong direction and I wasn't sure if my trousers matched but I knew, at least, that I had gotten most of the stains out of my dress.

Graffiti on a bridge that says CLAPHAM THAT WAY YOU 2D FLAT WHITE TEPID COLD...

I had to leave the post office: I couldn't understand the machine and pricked my finger really hard with a safety pin, watched blood bubble on the end of my finger like a thick and useless parachute. I SAW RED is the name on the bottles of hair dye but I only bought them because I couldn't use any of the others.

A 'cigarette stubber' and a broken down police van. People don't stop their cars for me today.

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