Another two days to go. I am somewhere between joy, panic and boredom. Jacques thinks I am moving out in a week, but I will take him by surprise.
Quote of the day: “I think I would like to find someone to move in who is not a pig.”
There is nobody in the whole world who could live with him as long as I have without wanting to punch him in the face. I will help myself to his selection of alcohol when I go.
Got utterly fucking drunk last night on money I couldn’t afford to spend. Then went to the Acropolis and tried to get off with a Czech girl. I probably could have succeeded if I wasn’t so unable to make moves. She thought I was Czech myself. I said I wasn’t. She said that was good.
Still, Katka, who I vaguely know, is the new MC for drum & bass nights, very very strange indeed. But she’s good.
Today I ate bizarre soya “meat” and then went to Café Montmatre with Russ and Amanda. The processed proteins, meanwhile, made their way to the bottom of our stomachs and made it increasingly hard to prevent the dreaded food escape. Then we walked home in the bitter, bitter cold and I sat around, not getting started on any of the many tasks I have to complete by Saturday.
I will miss this place, a little at least. Especially the view, and the fact that Hulk Hogan works in the shop downstairs.
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