Stranglehold

Today we finally finished removing boards from the windows. Morris has been busy motivating support for our case among local councilors and he even promises us visits from Watermouth’s sitting MP Desmond Ardingly and the Bishop of Watermouth. He says we have Oculus “in a stranglehold,” and he thinks they may give us a lease if they are forced into it, which would be perfect.

Lee, Gav, and Alex ran into Nathalie in the Art College and she called them “fucking bastards,” and later she rang up Morris and called him a fascist, but that’s been the extent of her anger.

Most of us sleep in our own rooms now, and we have done since yesterday: Alex and I share the top floor, Barry and Pete the first, and on the ground floor live Lee, Gav and Ben. I’ve got a bed and a chair in my room and little else, and the fireplace is open so I can have roaring fires when I can be bothered to build one. I might buy an electric one to cut out the hassle of chopping wood and waiting for flames to take hold.

No one has any money. I’ve got £17 left in the bank, although Alex owes me £10.