December 18 (Saturday): Oh man, this morning I wake up fucked! I think I’ve finally reached the age/state whereby I am now too old to sleep on sofas. I look however down at the dog and the little bugger is sound asleep, cute as a button.

I step out (get up) and walk into the kitchen to greet mum and the general vibe in the house appears to be maintaining as there is no sign of Dad.

Quickly I get into writing in order to make use of the day and soon I have written solid as it nears midday and Dad still has not shown his face and I haven’t been out to buy a Saturday newspapers. I get out for a drive and head to the Co-op in Great Clacton (ain’t nothing great about this part of Clacton). From there I head to the Clacton Common shopping village for the first time in months and the place is horrible, looking more run down than ever. Half the shops appear to be closed and the people inside the ones that are open looking unemployed and desperate. And here I am right in the middle of the curmudgeon. I look fearful, afraid of seeing people I might know, old school acquaintances (not friends). The sad truth is that I still recognise some of the shop staff in these loser shops.

From there, I make a swift escape and head back to Holland, stopping off at the used bookstore in hope of finding some bargains and treasures. No fucking hope of finding any bargains here (high prices) but I do find a PJ O’Rourke book (hardcover for £4.50) that I come really really close to buying. However, I currently have a stack of books as high as Lord Of The Rings character to read and times are financially tight. I then also happen across an old Woody Allen book with a postcard inside it. I look at the postcard and it is an autographed photo of the man. I find my treasure. I look for a price but there is no price pencilled in on the inside of the book (like every other book in the shop). There is a sticker on the back with £25 but surely this guy can’t seriously be expecting that for it! I look around and consider putting it in my pocket but then I see the most DIY CCTV camera in the world pointed at me. I slope out of the store having the man thank me as I leave. Go figure. This is also the shop that sells first edition James Ellroy’s for big bucks and where I found a copy of Death Of A Salesman at the exact day I was getting into the story.

Back home, I resume writing well into the evening whilst listening to the football on internet. All day there is no sign of dad whatsoever as he remains in his bedroom with the door firmly shut/closed speaking volumes. It is at around this point that, after last night’s debacle with dog, I have to get home asap. However first I want to blag some dinner because there is only cereal in my flat I believe.

Dad eventually emerges around 5.30 but soon returns to his bedroom, the door slamming behind him as the dog attempts to join him, only getting a kick in the face and the response “fuck off” from the old man.

Dinner turns out not to actually be worth the wait as mum makes chips, spring rolls and quiche (sounds like someone is cleaning/clearing out the freezer). It next to makes me gag.

Suddenly my night hits me and I have to leave immediately. I don’t know if it is/was a combination of the food and/or the bad night before, but I feel tired to the point of almost passing out in the warmth of the house. I gather my shit together as mum suggests a meet up for Christmas shopping tomorrow morning in Colchester. I go “yeah” unenthusiastically due to tiredness but still happy to accompany her along.

I get home to the comfort of my flat in the utmost of relief. Upon arrival I find a parcel sitting at my door and it is my Blogger clothing that I ordered online Tuesday. I cannot believe that I have bought a hoody, how fucking old am I? Regardless, I think it looks cool (ha ha) and goes with the “beard”. Is it hot in here or is it just me?

Tonight’s TV movie (for losers without lives) is The Talented Mr Ripley, a film about pretending to be someone you are not. It appears to be the cheesiest movie in history and a fucking disaster. I do not much of it, not least because I find Jude Law offensively crap. I attempt to stay awake to see the original Invasion Of The Body Snatchers on at 1.20 on BBC2 but no dice, I’m soon wide asleep catching up on/for last night.

np: Manic Street Preachers – There By The Grace Of God