Dragged out the reeking "compost" bag for the rubbish men who by sheer luck were due today. I don't understand what made it smell so bad. Sticking my head near it this morning as I cunningly double bagged it (to disguise it as ordinary rubbish) almost made me hurl my healthy oat-based breakfast. I am glad that I was speeding away towards London when the the ghastly Chernobyl of stink erupted in the back of their chompy rubbish truck.

Rubbish collection day is Christmas Day for seagulls. They rip through the black bags and strew the contents about on the pavements and devour unlikely things. At the end of the Twitten one had torn a big white onion from a black bag and had gored into it. Round the corner by the Bystander Cafe a bag had been slashed open and a dozen empty eggshells and a dab of eggy slime betrayed the nightwork of the gulls.

I am beginning to think that there are two Brightons. The human one, and that of stabby-faced overlords who crap on humans (e.g. me) for sport, and laugh it up all night on the tiles.

More Buddhism on the train. And once at work had a slightly less busy day but I was crabby and yearning for the weekend.

Reuben had sent me a link which enabled me to advertise my bunkbeds in a local website and newspaper. Cleverly left my mobile phone at home though, so missed the first enquiries. Arranged this evening for someone to come around and look at them. And at the time of writing they have simply not shown up. It will be good to reclaim that room: at the moment it painfully reminds me of Jack and Kate all the time.... Front door. Yay! A nice couple with two nippers have just left after giving me cash for the beds. Nothing like the buying price, but at least I know they'll be doing someone with two little nippers some good now. Excellent!

Still really tired, but swimming again today was very theraputic. Did deadheading roses for a bit in the front garden this evening and a small ripple of cheeriness passed over me.