I stopped blogging for a long time, I don't know why, comfort perhaps. Stimulus to restart? "Holocause is Coming", "All Jews Must Die" and "Juden Mord" written in chalk on the road outside my house in Golders Green - not targetted at me, but at the local community. I thought our area was wonderfully mixed - Hindus, muslims, jews and Eastern Europeans - turns out someone disagrees.
Uncomfortable with fiction where necessity is for realism.
I'm reading Norwegian Wood at the moment. Haruki Murakami is really the paragon of lonely, alienated writing - makes me feel cold and alone just reading his wonderful communication of bachelor tedium.
Glad at my suppression of overly-snobbish disgust instinct at African woman carefully-but-gruesomely handlessly-eating fruit from a plastic bag and spitting pips on tube this morning.
Got scammed on my company credit card - smooth, fluffy feeling of calmness has been replaced by cold depressed anger.
Oh, god, driving lesson. Turning into a free-travelling grown-up is so much work, especially in these dark days.