I feel a lot better after a coffee. I got off the train all sleepy and weird, walked half the Euston Road looking for something quite indeterminable. It wasn't really a fake almond essence croissant from Tesco, it wasn't the escalators taking me down at Warren Street station. I love it when something I don't know is running me spontaneously, and I get to the barrier with my card, and just change my mind. It must look silly but it feels free.
Then I spotted Centre Point and it was all about the caffeine. I feel a lot more normal now. I am wasting time before folk music later on, happy that I didn't have to jar my day with the bore of going home and coming out again. Sometimes it's just so easy and smooth to carry through with things, be out in the world and float a little. Some amazing people watching on the bench. It's a beautiful street we work on.
I did England today. London isn't England is it, not really. Funny how tourists land here for a bit of quaint when it actually lives an hour up the train line. Bicester is cute. I felt like I was watching characters, the bakery full of surname terms, a lady stopped on the street by an Iceland employee, the man asking me if I was enjoying my mini iced bun, yeah but it's too small, I said, you need a bigger one, he told me, do I indeed! I swanned in the sun feeling shook up and coated in a paper bag of English sweetness.
Today has been about itchiness, and sandwiches, and heads and feet. I bought the perfect Marni platforms that I can't really justify affording. Two excellent hats. Lots of itching, which I am starting to get a bit disturbed by. I think the wool isn't helping, but why am I just so constantly, prickly at the thought of my room. I think it's damp. I didn't know it was so humid, being so airless, but it must be. Or else I'm allergic to juniper and slathering it over me twice a day is a bad thing. I was itchy before that. Going to go to bed now dreaming of cream and waterfalls and boys most likely.