What a miserable existence I have at the moment. A life on the streets. The life I have now come to embrace.
I'm basically sodding off out while Estate Agents bring round potential buyers to see our hovel. Everyone hates our house. Its obvious. Their restrained look of horror as they politely look at the overgrown garden. Trying not to itch to get away. I am so embarassed. So I flee. Its better that way.
I pound the streets, lonely and bereft of warmth. I see my haggard reflection in oily puddles. I seek refuge in the slums of Strawberry Hill. My nose pressed up against an abandoned Estate Agent's window. Hoping against hope that a kindly old Jewish man will take me in and teach me how to pick pockets and that. And then i would light the first of 3 matches in the cold and brutal snow... oh, hang on. Never was that strong at the classics. Always did get them mixed up.
There was only one place for people like me on the way down. The only direction down for the likes of us. And that was a cafe near Strawberry Hill station that does Thai food for £4.95 - a choice of rice or egg noodles and an extra topping of cashew nuts. AND a free read of the Daily Mail. Yes, being desolate is not all bad.
Return home through the wind and the rain, coming back for a fag and checking on the cat, before the next viewer comes along. And this time , its the Launderette. They have Hello magazine in there........