After taking Titchika, the Alsatian, for a walk in the woods, I had my breakfast, consisting of two soft-boiled eggs and toast, caught the last half hour of The Yangtze Incident, starring Richard Todd in full stiff-upper-lip mode, and followed this by a brief job search.

I got changed and caught the bus into town for a brief wander around the shops, spotting a nice jacket in M&S for £80. Bored by this point, I put a football (soccer) bet on at Ladbrokes, then headed down to The Gog And Magog, a Wetherspoons pub, on the Barbican in Plymouth; their butterfly-chicken burger and pint of Guinness for less than five pounds is excellent value for money. I read in What’s On In Plymouth magazine that Dara O’Briain (is that how you spell his surname?) is on at the Pavillions soon; I might get a ticket. I read 24/7 too; this funky, little mag tells you about more arty gigs and events, directed more at the Yoof Cultcher (Youth Culture).

After this, I was feeling a little full, I am a skinny fuck*r, after all, and went for a walk to the Mayflower Steps, the last-known point of departure of the Pilgrim Fathers before their journey, alongside the Speedwell, to the Americas. I bumped into an old work-mate, Dominic, who is a drummer in a group, The Waterboarders, and his girlfriend; he’s a good bloke who also suffers a bit of back-trouble through work.

I headed back into town for a coffee upstairs in a Costa cafe; not bad coffee, but I normally prefer Nero. There were a bunch of young students, about 18 – 19 years of age, giggling and talking loudly out of their arses. They weren’t that annoying though, and a couple of the girls were good-looking (but a bit thick).

Now, as I look around, I find that most of the people here are of about a similar age, attire and haircut/style, as I probably would be if I was their age. Fashion was never my strong-point, as some friends will testify. One friend is constantly accuses me of being an Eighties Throwback; I don’t mind this, I’m not shallow. Coming from him, in fact, it’s a compliment; I remember picking him up once from Plymouth railway station in, what I can only describe him as wearing, Trying Too Hard To Appear Younger Than He Really Is-style. He’s a great bloke, genuine and honest, he really is, but he can have a huge ego. However, as the old saying goes: “New friends are silver; old friends are gold.”

Anyway, I’ve finished my coffee, which went cold rather too quickly due to the over-powerful air-con, and I’m about to head home and take the dog for a walk; finishing the day as I started it.

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