"A rainy night in Soho" The Pogues

Bernie came in wearing a T-shirt, which read: There is no finish line.
Greta sometimes wears one with the legend: If you don’t see what you want in the window – ask inside.
I have T-shirts that say: There is no last bus to miss and There is no ‘Good Ship Lollipop’
Someday I will write a paper: T-shirts: philosophy for the masses.
But not today, for I have other things on my mind.

Amanda. Is she really pregnant? If so, who is the father? One would immediately think of Freddie, but if she was telling the truth they have not had sex for a long time. Has she perhaps got a boyfriend? She goes to a lot of conferences.

It’s a funny business, this sex thing. Spike (you remember Spike – the serial shagger) says he has given it up. Says he prefers a brisk walk nowadays. Can’t say I blame him. In fact I am going off the idea of matrimony. I haven’t replied to Anastasia’s letter yet.
Getting married would get me out of here. But at what price?

They seem a bit lax about supervising my use of the internet, but I do have to be careful about photographs. I took another one (surreptitiously) in the old wing - stairs leading down to the ‘hydrotherapy room’. Of course it has not been used for years but I don’t think Freddie would like me to show the ‘unacceptable face’ of Victorian psychiatry. I don’t mean to be critical of the old mad doctors - they were doing their best. They really had the interest of their patients at heart.

We are all struggling to make some sense of all this: Life, I mean. Even the villains. Yes, what would we do without the villains? There would be no ‘cops and robbers’ on tv, no ‘soaps’, cinemas would close, theatres too – and of course the police and the prison service would be out of a job.

It is said that Dutch Schultz (America’s public enemy number 2 during the prohibition era), when he was found guilty, wept in the dock. He just couldn’t understand it. He was – in his own way ‘just trying to bring pleasure to people’.

It has been raining most of the day. But we have a ‘games room’ with snooker and table-tennis. Then of course there is 'occupational therapy' (your sponsorship ‘patch’ is now ready, girlzoot), where I am constructing a model theatre. The ‘theatre of the absurd’. I shall take a photo when it is finished – they won’t mind me putting that on the blog. (by the way, don’t think I don’t know that to be grammatically correct that should be ‘my putting’ but me sounds better).

I wonder what’s for supper. I hope it’s potato-cakes. I like those.