A blaze of half-hearted Christmas shopping and leftover trifle. Met the adorable Gary in town for tea, then later caught up with him in a pub for a drink. He was surrounded by lovely, clever people – which made up for the pub. I hate the Fitzroy Tavern. It’s not that central – so why does it sometimes feel like “The only fucking pub in old London town”? If it was less popular, it would be lovely – there’d be space to sit and muse over peanuts and old scores.
There was a lovely young man there called Scott. It was his first time in London, and he’d taken instant exception to two things – the tube and my cheery demeanour. He kept ruffling my hair, damn him. I fear I like him.