Works in an cramped electronics retailer east of Waterloo. Gets up at 5.30 am to record the previous evening's events.
it says at the top of the current page. Every page starts like a letter to fool anyone who sees him writing.
Sitting opposite me is a rather pathetic specimen of manhood very skinny with bulbous nose and buck teeth in a blue shirt with diamond patterns and clean blue jeans probably married. Trainers have grease mark along one edge. My tummy is burning from the bacon. I got off schedule and wolfed it down. This is because I did not sleep with worry. I sit here fuming about bloody Ian reorganising my shelving, but there is no communication at that place. All this angst is such a waste of energy...
Unlike his diaries.
The woman next to him is leaning over the page. He rears back, snorts, and snaps the book shut.
Car 7 map