Why are you doing this?

Jeremy and Lee came round to Westdorgan Road last night and we went to the pub’.

On the way I had to help a small, balding, bespectacled man to his house on Jervis Court. He was very very drunk, and slurred to me about how grateful he was. I don’t think he believed my interest in him to be simple neighbourliness at first. “Why are you doing this?” he kept asking, and I had to unlock his door for him and see him safely inside. He wanted to see me again and asked where he could meet me. Perhaps it was gratitude plain and simple, but I was filled with with the cancer of suspicion and gave him a vague answer.

Jeremy and Lee stayed until three a.m. watching the Olympics and a ridiculous Ken Russell film based on the life of Tchaikovsky.

I rose from my sweaty sheets at one today and Stu and I have spent the afternoon puzzling over the mechanics of The Third Reich, a ‘historical simulation’ war game. It's now nightfall and we’ve both grasped the rules sufficiently to feel confident enough to be able to play.