Wimpy

I really didn’t feel like it, but at nine, with the house empty, I left. . . . I caught the ten a.m. bus, (had to change at Whincliffe) and arrived in London, at Victoria, at a bit before three. The journey was uneventful apart from a row between the  elderly bull-necked bus driver and a Latin passenger. By Friday I will have virtually traveled the length of England four times in a week, almost a thousand miles.

The Watermouth bus was packed and crawled through crumbling London suburbs in heavy traffic while I gazed out at alien pavements. We reached Watermouth at six-thirty and I used the map the University had sent to find the Royal Crown Hotel. There was a cold wind blowing in from the sea as I hurried along the promenade. It's funny how the sea seems the same and has the same atmosphere no matter where you are: . . . Quinstow . . . now Watermouth. . . . After I checked in I had a half-pounder at a Wimpy.

I’m writing this lying on my double bed in my small room listening to Barbra Streisand on the radio. I wish I’d brought a watch. Going to Uni. will be a big change for me, because basically I like familiarity.