So okay, nothing spectacular happened, but it was 300% better than last time. For the first hour or so I felt things slipping away again as I bottled getting on the dance floor for the dancing lessons and stood at the sides giving off loser vibes. But I felt relaxed and as I was leaning and chatting with Jay on the upper part of the bar area a bit later on I suddenly felt in state and came up with an opener, “are you the singer – what time does the band start?” So I went for the first fitty that crossed my path, got her attention and asked, and lo and behold her answer was “yes I am the singer… the band starts at 10.” Weird! So it kind of backfired…

The next opener was to ask someone what time the band starts. Again I did it. It wasn’t so painful. I just asked this girl with huge cleavage on display and she said “i don’t know”. She looked a bit warily at the other guys as I asked – they were obviously staring lecherously at her (idiots). So I didn’t feel any vibing from her and just said “oh ok” and let her go.

Finally I saw another singer come by. Some of the new guys were standing nearby and I felt they needed to see that there were some balls in our group. So taking that feeling and feeling empowered to act like a man with more experienced in front of these noobs I asked the other singer whether they were starting again.

And that was that. So I got three openers in, which was 300% better than last time. Hopefully Saturday night will be the next babystep. I think part of the reason it worked was because I went out without expectations and no pressure on myself. In fact I felt sure I wasn’t going to do anything tonight and would go home after an hour or so not really caring – “as long as it got me out of the house” was my attitude. Also on the first and second approaches I was vibing with Jay and we were laughing so I felt that cheeky energy to just be spontaneous and suddenly turn around ask someone something. Those were definitely two important factors.

After the club we went across the street to the bar to see if anything else was going on. This place was shabby. I went to the loo and when I came back they’d just gone and sat at a table. So, the possibility of more action was off it seemed. But i felt happy to sit and chill as I felt I’d made progress tonight anyway.

After chatting for a while and discussing with our pissed very white friend about his thoughts on the whole thing we headed off. I took a taxi with whitey to the nearest tube before getting on my line and heading home. We planned to meet tomorrow and try somewhere else. Good idea. I got in around 12:30.

Conversation in the pub was a bit stilted. The band are a bit difficult to talk with at times. That’s what happens when you get six quiet guys together. One guy, the, Sarg, didn’t even say a single word. Well, he was foreign, but that’s till no excuse.

After making one pint last 2 hours and feeling guilty for it – I told Baz I didn’t have money to help up for the damage on the rehearsal room due to being jobless – we headed out. In fact, speaking of the jobless situation, my bullshitting was catching up on me. A few minutes towards the end of the evening one guy, Andy, turned round as said, pointing at me, “this guys got the best job!” Fuck. I’d told him I was doing some English teaching to foreigners privately. I then had to explain to everyone what I supposedly did with Baz looking on a bit confused. I tried to gloss over it though saying I’d only just started and only taught a few people. I’m not sure he believed me or understood what was going on, but he did still seem friendly as we headed back to the tube later on.

Took the tube and walked back home with Andy as he only lives around the corner. He met his girlfriend and they were getting a bit mushy on the tube etc. I hate that. Makes me feel uncomfortable, but I tried not to reveal my discomfort.

Andy’s alright. Bit strange in his own little way. He’s talkative and friendly, but I find him somehow tiresome. He wears me down. Other people who are friendly and talkative I find often it’s the other way around. You just let them talk and you listen and all’s good. But somehow, his energy being so high and perhaps my desire to conform myself to his energy, wears me down. It’s odd. Also he acts friendly but then when it comes time to say goodbye, he doesn’t sort of formalise the farewell. He just says “yeah, see ya” without even looking at you and with no smile or friendly gesture. Weird. Then for the rest of the week, despite him only living around the corner, you never hear from him. Bit odd. Sometimes I wonder if the days of making friends are over with high school and uni. People seem to be friendly that I meet in my late 20s, but only to a level of keeping you as a friend within the context they’ve met you – in this case a “band friend” – and not inviting you further into their life in any conceivable way. So interactions feel a bit awkward the further out of the “band” you get. In this case the further we get geographically from the rehearsal room and from the time the rehearsal ends.

We met outside the tube station. I was uncharacteristically early despite leaving the house about 30 mins later than intended due to “clothes problems” – i.e., once again being unable to find an “ensemble” I felt comfortable in.

I decided to do a little PUA reading before meeting this time. I refreshed my memory briefly about what tricks to play, about Juggler’s escalation, about story telling and the other bits and pieces. Actually my memory is so bad I can only remember those two right now and I don’t think I remembered many more on Thursday night. Shockingly bad.

So I stood out the front of the busy station at 6 and waited for her. She emerged about 10 mins later. Although I had vowed to kiss her when greeting her and being more warm this time around, unfortunately this did not go to plan! The moment she emerged out of the station and I saw her something along the lines of, “God, she looks awful, am I really meeting HER??” flashed through my mind. She did look terrible. No defined jawline, hair tied back severely and she was smiling – those teeth on display! Ugh! In fact why was she smiling? She seemed really happy to see me. Strange.

So I led the way. We found a nice quaint little Old English pub on the river and I got a couple of pints. The weather wasn’t too bad so I decided to sit outside. However, after 20 mins or so we both began to freeze so had to go back inside.

What was interesting about the night, at the least the first two hours anyway, was that I could talk the pants off her. And I was making her laugh. I was quite funny. I had quite interesting and entertaining stories. It was fascinating because the anxiety I had been experiencing leading up to this third meeting was that the conversation had been used up – there was nothing else to talk about. But here I was talking for England. It was very strange. It’s yet another instance of my negative predictions being wrong and my anxiety being therefore unfounded.

After the first pub we went to another one a bit further down the river. This was a slightly more expensive place. Not traditional but pretty modern and pretty noisey. But we managed to get a seat. The conversation was still flowing okay, there were only a couple of moment where someone needed to break a long silence. She broke it as I recall with a question about my preferred drink. And again, I surprised myself by not simply replying with a boring response such as, “yeah I always drink this stuff”. Instead I started talking about my old days of cigars and brandy and how I used to meet with old John who introduced me to these sophisticated ways.

Interestingly in this pub she started to look quite attractive to me. The way the light softly lit the contours of her face. Her jaw line looked more defined now too. Her eyes looked nice! And even her teeth were bearable. Was it the booze? Was it the light? Was her being in a more relaxed state causing this? I don’t know.

Having not eaten since 3pm my stomach started rumbling come 9:30ish and so we decided to head further down the river to find somewhere to eat. This is where things started to go wrong. We walked for ages and couldn’t find anywhere – they were too expensive or just too formal. I just wanted a bit of pub grub! So we walked for about an hour and found no where. The conversation got stale, I started to get bored so I’m sure she must have been feeling bored too at this point. Then my face started to get numb with the cold and I couldn’t think of anything to say!

So we walked in silence for a long way. My comedy dried up and anything I did say felt awkward. We ended up walking the way we’d come and going to another Old English type pub we’d passed earlier. We should have just come here. Damn it. Nevermind.

So we went in around 10:30. Unfortunately food service had finished at 10 so we just got a couple more drinks and talked till 11:30. The conversation was boring. More of the same. I was tired and bored. Was she too? She told me not to rush my drink. Maybe she wasn’t?

We headed back to the tube around 11:30 and said bye. She initiated a cheek kiss and and wished me a good trip. I said I might give her a call on the weekend, more out of politeness really. I can’t remember what she said. Then we departed.

I felt at the end of the evening that a third date without an escalation was not good. I think she probably felt the same. I’m sure I would have kissed her tonight if I’d been attracted to her. But I just wasn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it at any point. I couldn’t even bring myself to give her a peck on the cheek when we met or pull her in close when we were walking down the river in the cold wind..

Sigh. I’m not sure how to play it. Should I just call it a day? The two week holiday coming up will be a good opportunity to break contact for a while and keep it broken when I return. Maybe I should take it while I can.

Decided around 4pm I would go out as much just to appear to have some semblance of a life to my housemates as for my own sanity. What was there to do on a Monday night? There was a trad Mass on in town. I hadn’t been to one for ages and I had planned on going to Mass on Sunday for similar reasons but didn’t make it in the end due to my inability to get up.

Crash

Oh, before I forget, I almost had an accident as well today – a car accident that is (I witnessed another “accident” of sorts in church later, but I’ll talk about that later).

Basically I headed out at 4pm to go and pick some bits and pieces up from Tesco. Turned out there were massive traffic jams all the way round the town so after spending 15 minutes gridlocked I decided to turn off. I signalled to move into the left lane then signalled to pull into the side street, but I forget that buses use the bus lane from time to time! Doh! The next thing I heard was the sound of a tires skidding across the road as the bus hurtled towards me. It was eerily quiet actually. No high pitched screeching, just the sound of a huge vehicle kind of sliding to a halt several meters to the left of me. I decided to quickly speed off up the road and not face the “consequences” – whatever they might have been. To my surprise rather than feeling rattled, I started laughing! How strange I am. I was shaken a little bit, but not nearly as much as I should have been. I think the excitement kind of took hold and it was a welcome change from the utter lack of excitement of the last 10 years of my life. It’s interesting, something similar happened in 2000 when I locked myself out of my house and had to go on a little adventure to try and find a ladder, knock on neighbour’s doors and climb through windows.

Church

So anyhow, I headed out again at about 5:45. The Mass began at 6:30 so I was running stupidly late. And the reason? Once again I had to virtually go through my entire wardrobe before I found an “ensemble” that I was happy with. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything just looked bad. I couldn’t handle brown trousers mixed with black, grey with black, grey with a blue shirt. In the end I decided I couldn’t handle any colour combination and settled on all black – black coat, shirt, trousers, shoes, socks and bag.

Because I was so late I decided to attempt driving again, but the traffic was still mental, so had to leave my car near the chinese on the main road about 10 minutes walk away from the tube station. Once I got to Leicester Square I quickly headed over to the church weaving through the people obstacles littering up the pavement. Surprisingly the whole journey didn’t take that long – I was only 10 minutes late in the end.

Mass

The Mass was an unmoving experience. I found myself feeling angry with people around me and the priest and the ministers in the sanctuary. Also because I was late I didn’t get much chance to choose where I was sat and I ended up sitting right in front of a tramp who had found his way in there off the street. He stunk of piss, but I though I could handle the smell at first. He kept mumbling, falling in and out of sleep and sort of half singing to himself when the priest sung anything. Then, to my utter disgust, he started to piss himself. I could hear the sound of it splashing on the floor and the smell was horrendous. But it was weird, no one around seemed to notice. Either they took it as a penance, they were deaf/lacked a sense of smell, or they were so deep in prayer they didn’t notice. I think it was probably a combination of all three. Anyhow, me not being a real Catholic and all and just being here for the vibes, I had to move and ended up behind some pillar on the right side of the church. The church building was one of those old ones where no thought appears to have gone into making the sanctuary visible from 50% of the building. Crazy.

Anyhow, other than the homeless church pisser the only other things worth noting were the thoughts going through my head about the other people at mass and the priest and servers. I just couldn’t concentrate on anything remotely spiritual. I found myself nitpicking the errors of the servers – ‘he shouldn’t have done that’, ‘why does that man think he knows everything when he so clearly doesn’t', ‘these people are play-acting’, ‘the thurifer is supposed to accompany the MC and the priest at the altar during the incensation’ etc. Then I found myself nitpicking the people around me. There was a man in front of me who seemed to rather enjoy making all the server responses aloud in a spoken voice just loud enough for everyone around to hear. Why I ask myself? To show off that he “knows his mass”? Or it just innocent force of habit? I think probably a bit of both, but even in that diluted state such displays still sicken me. And it wasn’t just the Latin, there were all the gestures he had to make just at the right moment or as he preferred just slightly too early so as to telegraph that he knew exactly where he was in the Mass and this was all old hat to such a pious experienced soul as him. Again, sickening. He wasn’t the only one mind, there were other people around making similar displays. The effect it had was one of self-consciousness on me. I worried I was doing things a little too deliberately: Was I pulling out my missal just to prove that I have one and am therefore a “real deal” trad Cath? Was I standing and kneeling a little too attentively and therefore just showing off? Was I watching the altar a little too much thereby telegraphing inexperience at all of this? Ugh. It was just ugly. And how much of it was just made up in my head? Maybe that poor man was just innocent. Maybe I was just some kind of angry demon in the midst of these good people.

I stuck anyway. Didn’t feel any compulsion to pray. Wasn’t moved by the ceremony remotely. In fact even the music which usually moves me had no effect – all I thought was that the singers did a bad job. But I stuck around anyway just to kill time. After Mass I remained in my pew for 15 mins or so contemplating informing the “head MC” about the homeless pisser. I played the ensuing conversation through my mind and imagined him being typically breezy with me so didn’t bother.

To kill a bit more time after headed out of church, I decided to take a look in Waterstones. I hung around there a bit. Contemplated buying Thomas Crean’s ‘A Catholic Replies’ book written in response to Dawkins. I didn’t in the end as it was 9 quid.

After Waterstones I decided to head to China town where I got conned into buying a rice wrap thingy for 2.50 when the assistant had said it was 1.50.

After China Town I decided to walk home down the Southbank before getting on a tube at London Bridge. Walking back I felt ridiculously self-conscious so I decided to record my “automatic thoughts” on my mobile so that I could listen to them back at home later and write a CBT thought record.

On the way back from the tube I called Cor and organised meeting up tomorrow night with her. I really wasn’t feeling it though. I am just not attracted to her, it’s a simple as that. I keep getting these flashes of that first meeting we had going through my mind, of seeing her and feeling disappointed about her appearance. Then the image of tying to kiss her with those hideous teeth went through my mind. Yuck. But then I am faced with the dilemma of calling it quits. But if I do that I think I’ll miss the feeling of being wanted and I’ll feel completely lonely again. It’s nice to have some company, or at least the option of some female company on a lonely night.

It was a difficult day logistically. I wanted to meet Val but Cor was in town too. I wanted to see what the Val situation was first before seeing more of Cor, so I put Cor on hold another day, or perhaps to later that evening if the Val meeting did not go well. There were some problems as I’ll explain later.

Anyhow, the Val meet up was okay. She can talk. Any anxieties I had about not keeping a conversation going were left long behind. All I had to do was touch a subject and she would run with it. It was good. What’s more English wasn’t even her first language, she was Italian. I knew her from the language college where I studied last year for a CELTA.

We talked for an hour and a half or so in the coffee shop. Mostly the conversation revolved around Italy, travels, the language college, people we knew there, our respective accommodation in London. At times I felt it was getting boring, certainly for pickup. I wanted to move things in a better direction but in the moment I wasn’t sure how. I was smiling and rewarding her when she laughed at one of my jokes. I was getting all the PUA stuff wrong. Well, most of it. And I didn’t escalate. Oh, I did manage to introduce sex into the conversation though and she went with it – I was talking about noises coming through my thin walls from my neighbour last night.

Cor texted me shortly before I met Val. There were some communication problems today evidently. She sent texts to say she was in town, I said I could meet her but she didn’t text back so I assumed that wasn’t on the cards today. And if it was on the cards then she should have been texting me back to make sure. But she didn’t, so I went with Val. Anyhow, she sent me a text to say I was “a pain” later on. Not sure how jokingly she meant it. I just ignored it and called her an hour later to see if she was still around. I made the mistake of explaining myself a bit. Dumb.

Anyhow, the Val meeting only lasted an hour and a half. She didn’t want to go somewhere else with me so I took that as an IOD. She didn’t seem to make an effort either and her breath was bad! Christ! So, that would seem to be pretty conclusive evidence that she only wanted to see me as a friend. But who knows, I was sure Cor only wanted to see me as a friend last time, but it turned out I was wrong.

Spent the evening alone which was a pity. I didn’t end up with either after having, for the first time in my life, so many options at the beginning of the day. Crazy.

Couldn’t sleep. Ended up watching “This Is England” on my laptop. I had mixed feelings about it.

Mostly I just listened to him talking about his adventures of late. I took note of his story-telling abilities. He managed to make what was probably quite a boring little two-week adventure to Spain sound like a hilarious roller coaster. He must have talked about it for nearly the full hour. I got a few words in about my recent escapades with bands and travels, but it was tough going. He just wanted to talk and talk, I could hardly get a word in.

Great to hear from him again though. We got cut off after an hour or so – my phone died from overuse! So I called him back just to say see-ya basically but he kept on talking for another 30 mins or so. We ran the gamut from adventures abroad to trumpet playing to deceased teachers.

The rest of the day was pretty sleepy. I did no practice, managed to squeeze in some weights, managed to hoover my computer keyboard, but the rest of the day was spent lying on my bed here in front of the Internet.

Had dinner with my parents which was better than the previous few days. This was probably because I contributed something about ink cartridges and asked my dad about something regarding my car. But then, inevitably, I’d stepped over the line, I’d been too familiar, too seeking. The advice givers came out to play. “You shouldn’t spend too much money now…” Thanks for that insightful piece of advice. Yes, come to think of it, I shouldn’t really should I what with the holiday coming up and all? Wow. Thanks very much.

The remainder of the night I spent farting around with mum. Felt awkward and uncomfortable around her tonight. She was in one of those “good moods” she sometimes gets in. I feel awkward when she is “nice” and treats me in a more friendly way. That sounds weird. By all accounts I should feel more comfortable and happy when she treats me this way. But for some reason, I can’t quite explain why, it makes me want to push her away, be rude, go to my room and hide, do something else, ignore her.

I don’t know what it is, I just prefer more emotionaless functional interactions with her at least.  I guess there is just so much bad history between us and so much falling out constantly that I don’t ever feel comfortable letting my guard down. I don’t really know. And the reason I don’t really know is probably because I haven’t thought about it enough. And I haven’t thought about it enough because I don’t like thinking about it. it’s awkward. In fact, I wasn’t even going to write this bit because it felt awkward. So maybe it’s something it would be good at some point to confront.

Set off for Singapore at 9.30. Took a train to London Bridge and then the train to brighton. Cost about 11 quid! Rip off.

Was pretty exciting getting to the airport and checking in and all that. The anticipation was exciting, a bit, not massively – like when I was a kid. I was struck while sitting at the airport in one of those vibrating chairs (I didn’t pay to make it vibrate, it was just comfy) that I feel very much at home in airports where no one really knows my nationality or where I am going. I feel like I kind of assume an ambiguous identity and that makes me feel comfortable. Is this something to do with being half-cast perhaps?

Got on the plane. It was nice. It was virtually empty. The take off was very smooth. I was struck this time by having no negative feelings when taking off unlike last year. Last year when I went to Rome and Vienna and Poland I’d get nostalgic about flights to Singapore as a boy with the family and I’d be struck by feelings of loneliness and of leaving my mum behind. I guess this was absent now either because I’d since flown solo so many times or because I was leaving no one behind and meeting my parents out there. Maybe it was a combination of both.

Food wasn’t bad on the plane. I went for the unhealthy options in the end. Despite there being a monitor with games in front of me I hardly used it other than to play a little majong during the last hour or so of the flight into Dubai.

Got off at Dubai. Wow, it was pretty exciting to travel. I was no half-way around the globe in the middle east! Very cool. The airport was very crowded despite it being 1am. Apparently it was rush hour for them at this time. I wandered around the shops for a couple of hours, mostly looking at girls through the corner of one eye hoping to catch someone looking at me. I didn’t. Or at least I don’t think I did.

The airport was really long. It was basically a huge stretched out rectangle. There were lots of gold shops, electrical stores, booze and perfume stores etc. I looked around for a while, squirted on some free aftershave. Tried to practice the Power of Now and took a few snaps. Tried to conquer or “sit out” my self-conscious feelings which rendered me incapable of taking photos from certain positions. Decided to head for my departure lounge about 45 mins before the flight and sat down trying not to look and feel self-conscious.

The plane was full. And I ended up sitting next to this little innocent looking oriental girl. I was on the isle side and she was in the middle of a three-seater side seat. Despite the innocent looks she was really really annoying. Instead of being a model of shyness and respectability, she sat there for the first hour or two of the flight with her elbows hanging off the edges of the arm rest. I decided after an hour or so of this to fight back so I plunged into my bag for something and banged her a few times then pulled out my book and put my elbow on the arm rest and pushed her’s off. It didn’t work in the end. For the rest of the flight she did virtually the same. I thought at the time she was either doing this to assert her ownership of the elbow rest, she was just inconsiderate or she was used to invading personal space in her culture. It must have been the latter.

Therapy session

Just had a one hour psychotherapy session this time, but it spilled over a little and ended up finished around quarter past. A good thing really as I spent £35 on petrol on Monday, £55 at Freeport yesterday, today’s session would £30 and I was going to spend another £45 on shoes later.

It was a bit of a strange session. Firstly I felt very inarticulate. I remember always going to these session and feeling very articulate, but today I felt I could hardly find the right words. Thinking about it I wonder whether it is because lately I have been having mostly dumbed down conversation with the people from the pop band, the guys at the house, Australian girl, etc. Before I was kind of in my own world not speaking to anyone, just formulating thoughts in my own head mostly, reading things on the Internet etc. I guess it’s been a bad influence speaking to these kinds of people of late.

Another thing I noticed was the dynamic between us wasn’t quite the same. In previous sessions, although I may have turned up never feeling in a particularly good mood, often our sessions ended up with lots of genuine laughter, in fact, sometimes even uncontrolled laughter! But this time, even though I was possible a bit more switched on and not quite as down in the dumbs as usual, I felt the counsellor was not bouncing off me as much as usual. He might say something mildly funny and I would laugh but it would not be the kind of genuine spontaneous laughter of previous sessions, more a “friendly” slightly over-the-top polite kind of laughter. He did not seem to bounce off this and would perhaps just smile in response a little, but I didn’t see any genuine reciprocal laughter.

I was wondering about this. Either he finds people down in the dumps amusing, tries to pick them up, finds my extremely negative deadpan interpretation of things amusing, likes to try and pick people up who are genuinely down in the dumps, just bounces of genuine spontaneous behaviour more, doesn’t like friendly affected banter, prefers to maintain a more professional atmosphere and is thrown by any signs of over-familiarity or friendliness in sessions. I’m not sure which. But then I was reminded of a session with my first counsellor from when I was 18 who remarked in one of my sessions, “I’m aware that, as you have mentioned in previous session, you have this desire to always please others. And I don’t want you to ever feel that you have to please me, that you have to be the perfect client…” With him, I think he would have been more accepting of the way I was in this session and even encouraged it without ever showing any signs of discomfort. Where as A was not quite as good about it. He made me feel pressurised to conform to his way of conducting the session and made me feel a little awkward.

Anyway, we discussed what had been happening since we last spoke at the beginning of January. He sensed from what I was saying that I was disappointed with where I was now – still jobless but living in London doing new things in music, with girls, with the PUA gimps etc. I guess I am dissapointed. But he pointed out where I am now compared to where I was this time last year, which, incidentally, was April – apparently my first session back then was 20 April. Amazing really. So that means I’ve been driving about a year now?

He pointed out the progress I’ve made and that he felt I was now on the precipice of something, and that I was out there doing it rather than before just kind of planning it as before. When I was stuck in the flat in the North West just existing going out a couple of times a week to play in dance bands with old men and going to my parents’ house to lift weights in the garage, nothing was happening and nothing was likely to happen – no girls, no jobs, very few opportunities. But now opportunities were much abundant and I was out doing much more.

Would the me of April 2007 have been able to do what I am doing now? Actually, come to think of it, I probably would have – I did go to Rome, Vienna and Prague to meet a stranger off the Internet, and I did go to Poland with another girl off the Internet. But I guess it’s true, I certainly wouldn’t have been able to do all this as easily as I am doing now.

I don’t remember much else of interest from the session. We talked about my experience in town yesterday and how my anxiety came back again. But the only other thing I remember really from the session was the fact that he had a huge poster of Europe on his wall and some travel books for several European cities. Apparently he was going for a European drive this year and visiting lots of different places, including Vienna. I wonder if I inspired it with my stories of European misadventure last year? The thought of driving through Europe in his nice Mercedes under beautiful blue skies, through France, to Austria and back is an inspiring thought. If I had a good car and some money and a female companion, that’d be a brilliant thing to do.

So, I just about got everything in I wanted to talk about that session – the girl situation, spending most of the first few months in London under a cloud of obsession about her, money issues with the benefits offices, job interviews and disappointments, loss of motivation, bands, PUA thingy, meeting new girl, slipping back into old ways of hibernating. Not much input on most of it, not much to come away with, but it was good to discuss I suppose and his insight about the whole thing not being something I should be disappointedly about but something I should be happy about made sense.

The rest of the Day

The rest of the day I did the stuff noted above. In the evening I made the decision I didn’t want to pass up going to Singapore even if it would cost me £500. Being out of pocket would be slightly depressing in the short term but in five years would it bother me? No. However, having missed the opportunity to live, to experience, to go to Singapore and see all my family again for the first time in 9 years would definitely be something that would eat away at me in five years. I survey the past five years of my life and no doubt there were times when money was tight, but I can hardly remember all that. However, what I do remember is opportunities missed and the relentless of time.

So anyway I decided I should go. And I managed to talk mum into possibly paying for half the ticket £250 would definitely be less of a blow. In fact I could probably make that money back with benefits in the weeks I was away. I’d have to wait until tomorrow though for her to decide. She’d have to discuss it with dad. After all they’d already given me £500 at the beginning of the year for help towards my move to London, dad had paid £400 for my computer last year and I’m sure they’d given me money for my birthday and other stuff. So yeah, I owe them come to think of it.

I headed into Blackpool and parked up. Wow, amazing to actually be in the centre of town and be able to drive with no bus lanes to avoid, no weird road  signs all over the place, no one way systems and every other kind of obstacle and inconvenience conceivable in my way. And to think I used to think Blackpool town centre was mayhem when I was learning to drive.

Wandered through the centre quickly. Felt self-conscious but not as bad as I used to. I still felt like an outsider at this point, had my London mentality on. Went to dad’s shop and got the key after an awkward little exchange with father involving him asking me pointless questions in an attempt to look like we were having a conversation like “normal people” in front of his work colleagues.  No, dad, I don’t need a new key cutting. I have a key at home, I just left it there. Yes yes, I’m very pleased there is a key cutter nextdoor, that’s great.

Anyway stuck around the shop for a while trying on a few designer frames. I need a new trendier thick frame I think. I saw a guy at a job interview with a pair like this a few weeks ago and he looked cool. I’d always thought they looked a bit poncy and ugly until then, but he looked good in them.

Felt incredibly self-conscious in the shop especially with the presence of these young teenagers. Stuck around anyway and tried on a few pairs and tried to talk myself into feeling less self-conscious – “I can’t live my life in fear of other’s opinions like this… this is stupid… if I stick around the anxiety will subside shortly… ” etc.

Headed back to my car after about 30 minutes. Had to walk through town past some hoodies. Wow there’s a lot round here, I thought. I only left 3 months ago but I don’t remember the whole hoodie thing haven’t been that big then – they were still doing the whole caps and shaven head thing. Felt my anxiety overloading – hyperventilation as I walked. Quickly got in my car and drove to Fleetwood.

After going past my old prison (old flat) and fuelling up in the service station next door that I used to go to when I’d get munchies in the night I arrived at Freeport. I Felt self-conscious wandering around there for some reason, I aways do – “people must be looking at me… I stand out… I look too poncy for this area…” These were the kind of thoughts going through my mind.

Anyway, it was refreshing to meet some reasonably friendly shop assistants after being in London for 3 months. I decided to buy a couple of thin jumper top thingys. All the tops I’ve been wearing in London of late have been dress shirts and more dress shirts, I have nothing else, so these tops seemed to be a good buy. It’s important to look good at the moment and have more variety for the girl I’m dating at the moment more than anything.

On the way out I felt less self-conscious and decided to window shop in a few of the other shops. For some reason I always feel less self-conscious coming out of the place, I don’t know whether it’s because I just spent some time in there and have adapted or because I am aware that I am about to leave. Anyhow, found a shoe shop with a pair of black suede boot type things that were neither too smart nor too casual. God damn it, I searched all over London for a pair of shoes that combined the best of both worlds but couldn’t find them and here up on god forsaken Fleetwood I find a pair. Oh well, I couldn’t part with another £45 so decided I might come back tomorrow again after sleeping on it. A friendly women in the shop spoke to me. Wow, I thought, I must look normal.

Headed down to my old prison again. It looked the same as before. Strange place. Then went to the beach to have a look at a ship that’s supposed to have been stuck there for the past few months.

Driving was a pain today. I think since living in London I have lost the joy of driving. Anyway parked up and hit someone’s bumper slightly. Oh well. I’d be driving off in a minute and there was no noticeable damage.

Took a look at the beach. Wow, wonderful to feel that breath in that fresh air after London, even if it was shitty turd-infested Cleveleys waters. The ship looked strange out there in the distance. I took a couple of pics on my cam that turned out nice.

I felt self-conscious on the beach. I would have liked to have walked up and down there a bit more but the self-consciousness married with the cold wind meant that I got back in my car after 10 minutes or so. At this point I had slipped back into Cleveleys mentality. I was no longer a Londoner visiting Cleveleys, I felt very much like I lived here again. It’s amazing how quickly this happened.

I drove down the sea front and noticed they had rebuilt the entire shoreline and it looked really posh! Amazing. I wanted to take a look and a wander down but couldn’t find anywhere else to park. Oh well, I’ll come back tomorrow I thought.

Headed home. Became struck by feeling disconnected from everything. I feel disconnected in London and disconnected here, I thought. And I like to be in the cocoon of my car. Strange. Maybe it’s because I am so full of fear when I am out there in the streets. Maybe I prefer being in my car because the windscreen separates me from the outside world. It’s like looking into an aquarium or something. And I can always speed off if any trouble starts. Yes, that’s it! I’m sure of it!

Did some exercise that night. Wow, I’m incredibly weak now. I can’t even do 90lb lat pulls. I could always do those. And I can’t even bend down to dead lift. My legs scream in pain when I try and stay bended… Depressing.

Did some more practice. Trumpet sounds better when I blow flat I discovered. Still can’t get that whole focused sound thing going though.

Set off around 1:30pm and arrived back around 6pm. It takes so god damn long to get out of London. Even though I went through Shorditch and North London this time it still took around and hour and a half.

The drive wasn’t too bad. I had my laptop plugged in for part of the journey and listened to the Russell Brand Show. The BBC website hadn’t made it available to download yet so I had to play the pre-recorded show through my laptop. I nearly had a crash at one point – going 70 down the middle lane while trying to click a tiny icon isn’t probably the best idea.

The rest of the journey I spent listening to some sacred choral music programme from the BBC on Palestrina and Bach. After listening to that I couldn’t stomach Sly & the Family Stone or any of the other funky stuff I’d downloaded lately to my MP3 player, so had to content myself with my Bach collection for the 150,000′s time. As much as I love the B Minor Mass and the Magnificat etc. at the moment I am dying for something new.

So arrived home at 6. Dad greeted me enthusiastically. Erm, excuse me, father, can you not remember that we don’t get along? You remember the last 28 years don’t you? You were a cunt and I had to put up with you remember? Silly man. I’m sure he half expected me to reciprocate his friendliness. Instead I just mumbled hello and looked at the floor as I entered the house and plonked down my bags. I never make eye contact with him.

We ate dinner together – my mum’s bland chinese food. She made white rice for some reason. She must be slipping from the healthy ways I instilled in her. Had a conversation about nothing interesting – finances and failed job searches in London, I think. They didn’t ask me about all the bands I’ve been playing in lately, the buggers.

The rest of the night I spent in front of my laptop hidden away upstairs in my old room (I slipped back into my former ways like a glove) and downstairs in the kitchen doing some trumpet practice. I was planning on doing some weights tonight too – that was also part of the reason for coming back (trying to get back in shape before going to join a gym down south) – but I was too tired… or lazy, I’m not sure which.