the gazza strip
left the farm early and drove to bournemouth in the mini-peroumobile.
3.5hrs
met "i just met a girl named mariaaaaa" at christchurch station and relocated to the quay.
i am amused that (my assistant) maria now knows me well enough to tell me what i can and cannot wear.
i drove in (bad) trainers for comfort.
getting out of the car, i said to maria: 'i think i'll just keep it casual and wear these with my suit instead of changing'.
"no perou, you can't: they look bad"
this was one of the three unwritten signs today that maria has graduated beyond 2nd assistant to my 1st assistant aka part time carer.
the other two signs were when she pointed out that i had sat in something white, but declined to wipe it off.
and when she spent many moments laughing out loud that i am growing a tall/long mohican.
they don't teach you this shit in college.
some people like to surround themselves with 'yes men'
i like to surround myself with girls who laugh at me.
had quite a delightful chicken ceasar salad and a coke in the belated english summer sun waiting for paul gascoigne to finish his interview.
then took some simple daylit portraits of the gazza nearby.
and returned to london town.
quite knackered.
checked into a hotel near canary wharf.
and passed out early.
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