And the man underneath where does he go? Does he fall by the wayside or does he just die? Saunad last night with Miles. Miles who managed to be fantastically late — got to Liverpool St having purposely got myself hideously lost on purpose. Which I’d done on purpose as Miles had called to say he was 30 minutes late. Bah. He eventually arrived, being the gentleman he is he blamed everything on his mother and we set off to find freaks in the sauna. Bumped into an old friend in the changing rooms, caught up a bit. Then went and hid in the jacuzzi and bumped into first Lunky and then Jordanj. Chilled. Wandered round the dirty bits (Widescreen plasma porn! Almost but not as good as Valencia! ). Chatted to peeps. Got frowned at for being silly in the jacuzzi (think I was putting off the people trying to get Miles’ attention... Left at about 10:45, had a cunning plan to walk home as I reckoned it was only 30 mins walk. I think I may have been smoking crack. Home just before midnight and after giving Miles a guided tour of the bestest bits of the East End (where else would you find a nightclub in a toilet?) en route. Watched some of “Done the Impossible” as I cooked gorgeous spaghetti bolognaise. Browncoats are freaky, man. Finalized bits of tonight with Ulf. Bed at about 2ish. Woke up at about 7ish. NOT ENOUGH DAMN SLEEP. In work late due to fuckup with bank cards at Bow station. IE it wouldn’t accept any whatsoever. Bah. Being the gentleman I am, it was all Miles’ fault. Sporadic work. Mostly lovely. Finished lots. Made myself even more. Bah. Perfectionism sucks... Tonight I’m meeting Miles at Victoria. With his bag. Which contains stuff which I hope nobody I work with sees