London

(Jake: 27 May 2003)

Today was divine payback for an unhealthy weekend and blagging yesterday off. I had to go up smoke to cover an expo in Angel. Luckily they had shed loads of media information to hand – just as well as I spent most of the time smoking rollies and drinking ludicrously overpriced coffee.

I’ve just got on the train back and, for once, I’ve actually got a seat. I’ll finish this later.

All I can smell is my chemical BO and the city slime clinging to me. I’m shaking like a shitting dog and need more sleep. I don’t need prescription drugs – I need a fucking drink.