Monday 11 January96 lbs., 211 cigarettes, absolutely nothing cheery or charming in putrid British post
Forgot how much I missed the old sod. Jump into Galliano suit and nip round to Harvey Nicks. Suddenly realize cerise and buttercup look garish in soft, misty British light. Return to flat. Pull on shapeless pilly sweater, woolly tights. Pick up soggy chips at Wimpy bar. Set off for castle.