the Ops Manager was a susprisingly nervous individual for one so physically imposing (over 6 feet tall) - possibly a couple of years younger than me, though with a look in his eyes that suggests he might be spiritually older - very distracted, permanently looking over his shoulder as if something is about to happen that he has to be aware of or that someone is about to give him bad news -
he told me, in no uncertain terms, that the pay would not be good -
it wasn't - it was laughable; truly - so I declined the job
Christ, I'm hungry again. I've imposed a food regime as of today, cutting down my intake by about a quarter, hoping that I'll save on spending whilst I'm out of work and just writing - we'll see -
drank coffee far too late again whilst writing up first draft of short story 'Seven By Five' - couldn't sleep, couldn't relax, so talked to B & A in the kitchen for hours mostly about knife attacks, my getting beaten up in Brixton five years ago, music festivals, and the quality of Madonna's (!!) music nowadays (we all agreed it was crap) -
when I go back upstairs there are three missed calls on my mobile
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