Friday 12th June 2026, 11:10

So, I’ve just boarded the 11:08 train from Derby to London St Pancras, and I appear to have chosen a carriage that has no functioning air conditioning. I know this must be the case, both because I am exceedingly warm, and because there is an angry looking fat woman staring at me with so much sweat dripping down her face that I’m slightly concerned I might drown in it on this journey if she doesn’t get off at the next stop. 

Where am I going? Wouldn’t you like to know – all I will tell you for now is that I’m off to represent South Derbyshire at both the UNISON Local Government Conference and the UNISON National Delegate Conference. I’m sure there is absolutely no need to explain to you how passionate I am about trade unions and workers rights, as I’m sure my previous blog from Edinburgh evidenced when I attended the LGBT+ Conference. Any suggestion that I attend these things just to get out of work and travel to different places is frankly so insulting that I won’t even respond to it. 

Jesus, there is some serious talent on this train. Is it me, or are men just getting more and more beautiful recently? Some of them are almost criminally attractive. Also, by the way, why is there so many fucking people on this train? It is the middle of the day, do they not have jobs to go to? I am, of course, an exception, as I couldn’t possibly countenance ever having to work a Friday ever again, but surely the unemployment crisis can’t be this bad? Having said that, it is clear the ugly woman staring at me hasn’t been able to afford to wash since 2017, so maybe the cost of living crisis is real after all. 

Do you believe in the cost of living crisis? I’m not sure I do – every time I go out for dinner or go to play golf, it’s always really busy, so people must be earning enough to sustain themselves. Either that or I’m just allergic to poor people, which I suppose is also a possibility. 

How are you, anyway? Apologies it has been so long since I last wrote to you, I have just been so busy living my absolute best life. It’s not sarcasm or an over-exageration to say I am the happiest I have ever been, savouring every moment of this wonderful life I have been blessed with, making the most of every opportunity and enjoying every second. Oh, and of course, I look fantastic and I’m in the best shape I have been in for years, which is a nice little bonus. 

I adore watching the beauty of the British countryside rush by outside the train window as we hurtle towards the capital. This country has so many faults, but my god, it is stunning. 

Right, my mind is too busy to write anything else, so I’m going to go and listen to an audiobook or some shite. Speak later. H x

Friday 12th June 2026, 15:15

I have arrived in… Brighton! That’s right, I am spending the next week or so in the home of the homos, the qapital of the queers, the land of the lesbians, and so on. One of those isn’t quite as good as the others, but we keep moving forward regardless. 

The apartment I have booked is absolutely stunning. The owner had left some slow jazz playing when I walked in, along with a video of some logs burning on the TV, which is objectively the best vibe in the world, so that was an immediate plus 30 points. I would describe the decor as sort of shabby chic, but less tacky and shit, more elegant and refined. It isn’t how I would decorate it myself, but it still looks rather lovely, and they’ve made excellent use of the space. I have an hour or so to settle in before the Waitrose shop I’ve ordered will arrive.

On the train down, I saw the news that David Hockney had died, which made me a little bit sad. I think he was a fascinating man with an amazing talent for finding beauty in normality, and the world will be less bright without him. I have the Bojack Horseman version of Portrait of an Artist (Pool with Two Figures) displayed on my bedroom wall, because the combination of Hockney and Horseman is an almost perfect explanation of my personality, but perhaps I should purchase another piece of his in honour of his passing. 

I worry I may have lost the enthusiasm and passion required for optimal blog writing. I just don’t have the desire to write recently, I don’t know what it is but I am just not arsed. I think part of it is because I am quite enjoying keeping myself to myself and not having anyone know what I am up to, but I also think part of it is that I just cannot be bothered, and I don’t seem to get anything from it anymore. 

On that note, I am going to lie down for a bit. Bye. X

Saturday 13th June 2026, 07:00

I’ve just switched on Radio 4 to listen to the Today programme and they’re playing the national anthem – isn’t that utterly glorious? God I love this country sometimes. 

I had a wonderful evening yesterday – I enjoyed a Wood-fired Spicy Calabrian Salami Sourdough Pizza, a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a few cheeky Marlboro Golds. The guy who delivered my Waitrose shop told me I had a beautiful flat, so I was a bit sad when I had to inform him I’m merely renting it for the week. It really is incredible what fun one can have when one becomes comfortable in one’s own company – I watched some interesting YouTube videos and listened to some classical music, as well as reading some articles in various magazines (The New Yorker remains my all time favourite). What more could you possibly want?

There are a few Parkruns you can do around here, so I am currently pondering which one I should take on this morning. I’ll be doing the Hove Promenade parkrun with my gorgeous friend Lauren when she pops down for the day next Saturday, so that leaves me with Brighton & Hove parkrun or Preston Park parkrun to choose from today, although they’re both around a 40 minute walk away, which is a bit of a pain in the arse. I guess the whole point of it is the exercise, though, so I shouldn’t really whinge. 

Lyce Douset is currently running through the latest on the US-Iranian ceasefire on the radio in the background. She is one of my favourite journalists, and I really wish my generation would learn to appreciate the excellent journalism that the BBC, especially Radio 4, has to offer. 

Beyond parkrun, I am not really sure what to do with the rest of my day. I’m leaning towards some poached eggs on toast once I get back from my run, so I might do some research as to what this wonderful city has to offer whilst I eat that. I have been here once before, although that was with Sam, Kiera and the gang, so, naturally, the only exploring we did was from bar to bar, which was incredible fun, but not really the vibe I am looking for right now. I wonder if there are any art galleries about? I assume there must be, we all know the gays love art. 

H x 

Saturday 13th June 2026, 11:25

I have had a morning that can only be described as idyllic. 

I decided on the Brighton & Hove parkrun, so I set off just before 8am. Google maps gave me an ETA of 08:41, but it was 08:33 when I arrived at the park, so clearly google maps hasn’t got a fucking clue about the power of a walking gay. I decided to walk without my headphones in so I could properly absorb the sights and sounds of the city, and by god, what a beautiful city it is. I popped into Lidl once I arrived to get a drink and headed to the start line. There were swarms of people, the sun was shining, there were lots of dogs, and the whole scene had something extremely serene about it. 

The park was really pretty, and it felt good to be out in the fresh air and bask in the glorious morning sun, along with so many other people. I think what I like about parkrun is that even if you don’t speak to anyone, you still manage to get a sense of community and belonging just by being surrounded by hundreds of people who, in that moment, share the exact same goal as you – to run five kilometers as quickly as they can. That, by the way, is exactly what I did – I knocked 79 seconds off my parkrun PB and completed the course in 29mins 34secs, which I am utterly thrilled about! You might recall me mentioning in a previous blog that it took me over an hour to walk my first parkrun last year, so to see so much progress makes me so happy and proud that I can’t even begin to describe it. 

As I was leaving the park, I came across some Beryl bikes, which appear to be the Brighton version of the Boris bikes, so I thought, you know what, why not? I love it when I come across publicly accessible bikes like this in big cities, because it is an instant reminder of some of the amazing places I’ve cycled through with my friends over the years; Paris, Berlin, Prague, Brussels, and so on. It makes me grin ear to ear every time just thinking of those memories. Anyway, as I leisurely cycled back to my apartment, I literally could not stop grinning, I don’t know if it was the endorphins or just my general happiness at the minute, but I was smiling like a kid in a candy shop, and when I turned onto the promenade and began to cycle alongside the sea, my smile only grew. Again, idyllic is literally the only word that even comes close to describing it. 

Once I parked the bike, I popped to Waitrose for a few bits (toilet roll, shower gel, protein shake – the essentials) before walking back to the flat. I turned on Radio 3 and had a Marlboro Gold as soon as I got in, before I put some water on to boil, had a shower, made a cup of tea and poached eggs on toast, and revelled in the glory of my new PB. That brings us to now, when I’m writing this and pondering what to do with the rest of my day. Brighton Museum & Art Gallery looks decent, so I am guessing I’ll head in that direction and then see where the wind takes me. 

Chow. H x

Saturday 13th June 2026, 18:10

I did make it to the Brighton Museum & Art Gallery in the end, but I have to be honest, I wasn’t particularly impressed. There were a few nice paintings, but on the whole it was largely made up of things I’m not really interested in – Ancient Egypt, the Bronze Age, and so on. What is it about this country and our obsession with the Ancient Egyptians? I seem to remember studying them in history in primary school, and of course I know all of the words to the Cleopatra song from Horrible Histories, yet I can’t help but feel we’d be much better served by studying the Ancient Greeks, who are infinitely more interesting. The one thing I will give to the museum is that the way it styled its labels was absolutely excellent – they all asked questions and provoked thought, in the style Alain de Botton urged museums and art galleries everywhere to adopt in his fantastic Art as Therapy, as opposed to merely providing information, as most seem to do. Bravo. 

Upon exiting the museum, I realised I was rather tired, so I didn’t bother doing the Royal Pavillion. Well, that and the fact that it was £21 for a ticket, which is, quite simply, daylight robbery. Instead, I decided to meander back to the apartment for an afternoon nap, because why the hell not? I made a slight detour to Caffe Nero for an iced latte, and of course I had to pick up a few books from Waterstones, but I was back at the flat by 2pm. 

I read one of my new books for a bit before falling into a brief slumber. When I awoke, I made myself a curry, which was rather nice, but I made a horrible mess in the kitchen, which was a pain in the arse, and that’s about it really. My exercise this morning has knackered me out horribly. 

Time to read through some conference documents whilst trying to sustain the will to live. Speak soon. H x

Sunday 14th June 2026, 21:10

I awoke at around 6am this morning, surprisingly full of energy. I brushed my teeth and got dressed, and set off for the gym. It’s just under a mile away in the town centre – Google Maps suggested it would be a 19 minute walk, but I did it in about 14 minutes, further proving that Google severely underestimates the pace of a gay walk. I did a 45 minute pull session in a pleasantly deserted Puregym, before running back to the apartment. My fitbit informed me this afternoon that I have “overexerted” myself this week, with my cardio load sitting at 152%, whatever the fuck that means. Imagine telling Fat Harry 12 months ago that he’d be exceeding his recommended cardio load? He would have laughed, or cried, into his big bowl of ice cream. 

I had a bowl of protein cereal with skimmed milk when I got back to the flat (pure gains, baby), along with a black coffee and a Marlboro Gold. I showered, got dressed, and sat down to read The Sunday Times on my iPad. Much of the news was predictable – Trump yet again suggests a deal is close with Iran, Starmer yet again insists he will fight any leadership challenge, et cetera et cetera – but there were some lovely pieces on David Hockney, with Lynn Barber penning a particularly charming piece entitled ‘How I bonded with David Hockney over cigarettes’, further cementing his status as one of my all time favourite icons. 

After that, it all went downhill, as the first day of the conference was even more boring than I could have possibly imagined. At one point I was so bored that I put an airpod in (two seemed rude) and listened to an audiobook for a while, staring without focus at the stage so it still looked like I was paying attention whilst happily absorbed in the book. The point of a UNISON Conference, for the uninitiated amongst you, is for members to put forward motions which then get debated, but of the 44 motions put forward for debate today and tomorrow, the service group executive has recommended we vote in favour of all 44, and not a single person spoke against any of the motions that were discussed today. It is almost as if left wingers aren’t huge fans of debate and dissent, although perhaps that is another blog in itself entirely… The highlight of my day was the 90 minute lunch break, in which I nipped back to the flat for a ham & cheese sandwich and a can of monster energy. You have to take the little wins where you can. 

I snuck out of the conference an hour early at 4pm and returned to the flat. I caught up on a few admin bits before making myself creamy tomato pasta with chicken for tea, but I made it so spicy that it burnt my fucking mouth, so that wasn’t ideal. Whenever I cook at home, I have to make sure I keep things relatively mild, as my darling Mother has quite a low threshold for spice, and I usually make a big fuss about this, although I now realise that perhaps her moderating presence, as in many other areas of my life, is probably more of a blessing than a curse. I then lay on my bed for a bit to listen to an audiobook, but I appear to have been sufficiently tired to have fallen asleep for an hour or so. A young gay man gets a week away in Brighton and he spends it exercising and sleeping – I feel like I might well be missing a trick here? 

In conclusion, I don’t think my Fitbit was wrong about my overexertion this week, as I do feel rather exhausted, so I am going to have a day of rest tomorrow. My current thinking is that I might take a wander down the promenade and perhaps even, if I am feeling particularly brave, take a dip in the fresh morning crispness of the sea. Yes, I think that sounds rather nice, actually. 

I noticed today, when I took a look around me, that most of my colleagues were on their phones and iPads, and I even saw one playing candy crush. I would usually bemoan, as I often do, our addiction to and reliance on our smartphones, but the severity of the boredom that conference induced in me made me somewhat more understanding. I think the lesson I’ll take instead is that tomorrow, I should take my own iPad, and do some reading that might actually be useful – I mean, what is the point of reading 44 motions if you know they’re all going to be approved anyway? What a charming and amusingly accurate microcosm of democracy itself. 

Good night. H x

Monday 15th June 2026, 07:50

I did go down to the beach this morning, but it was very windy, and the sea was brutally cold, so I refrained from taking a dip. I am slightly disappointed in myself, and accept that I am a bit of a pussy, but such is life. I did sit by the sea for a while, thinking about nothing and everything, before coming back to the flat to have some crumpets and read some Henry David Thoreau. It’s not a bad life, although whether that sentiment survives the second day of conference is another matter entirely… 

H x

Tuesday 16th June 2026, 12:35

Yesterday was what I could only describe as nondescript. The conference was uninteresting and I left both the morning and afternoon sessions  early. I nipped home for lunch in between the two, and accidentally fell asleep again, which was probably the most exciting part of my day. In the evening I made myself fajitas for tea, which were delicious, before spending the evening watching YouTube videos and reading books. 

I was up at 6am again this morning. I ran to the gym, did a push session, and then ran back. I had protein cereal for breakfast before reading for a bit. Today is the start of the National Delegate Conference, which is much bigger than the Local Government Conference. There were dozens of morons standing outside the entrance this morning handing out copies of the Morning Star and Socialist Worker – I really don’t know how I ended up here. The first two questions raised by delegates both concerned the war in Gaza, which, regardless of your opinion on it, I struggle to understand how it relates to trade union activity in the UK. Bloody leftists. The keynote speaker this afternoon, however, is Angela Rayner, so at least that will be mildly interesting, and it will be pretty cool to be able to say I have heard her speak live. 

This evening will be the real highlight. As soon as the afternoon session ends, I am rushing to the train station to catch the 17:39 to London, as I’m off to see James Marriott in conversation with Dominic Sandbrook. Anyone who knows me will know that James is my favourite newspaper columnist, and I am beyond excited for his upcoming debut book, The New Dark Ages: The End of Reading and the Dawn of a Post-Literate Society, so to see him speak in person will be absolutely thrilling, and I am really looking forward to it. 

Time for a cup of tea. H x

Wednesday 17th June 2026, 07:50 

If I am being completely honest, Angela Rayner was somewhat underwhelming. There was nothing new in her speech and, to my surprise, she largely just repeated the ‘accomplishments’ of a Government she is no longer part of. My suspicion is that she isn’t wanting to rock the boat before the Makerfield by-election tomorrow – the one thing she did shoehorn into the speech plenty of times were references to her time as ‘Deputy Prime Minister’, so my bet is that she is eyeing a return to that role if Andy Burnham is successful and manages to topple Kier Starmer in the coming weeks. Politics is a dirty game. 

I left the conference early (which is becoming something of a pattern) to catch the 17:09 train to London instead of the 17:39, both because I didn’t want to be late to the talk and because I was so incredibly bored that waiting for a train was preferable to sitting in that conference hall. Walking through Brighton to the train station, I must admit it felt quite run down and shabby, although perhaps that is just me being unnecessarily judgemental. 

On arrival in London, I found myself feeling almost ecstatic. Whereas the rush and buzz of people used to terrify and depress me (although I think this was largely down to my being severely depressed), it now excites and invigorates me – it feels like opportunity and wonder, all of those people living out their own lives with their own tales to tell. 

The event was at the Union Chapel in Islington, and it was possibly the most middle class crowd I have ever seen in my life – they were so posh that even the mumbling of the crowd before the talk started somehow had its own posh accent. Looking around, there were so many beautiful men, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to be friends with them, have sex with them, or just be them. I mean, if they’re at a book talk for a columnist of The Times discussing the decline of reading and the horridness of social media, they must be just as intelligent and interesting as I am, so why not? I chastised myself for not actually having the balls to speak to any of these people, but I guess that is something that I will have to teach myself. 

As well as fascinating, I actually found the talk by James quite endearing in a way – I have listened to some of his podcasts and interviews before, and it is obvious that he is quite a shy and reserved man, but this really became obvious when he was up on stage. Nonetheless, he was extremely fluent and interesting, citing different works to justify his positions, and not afraid to say things that could be considered quite controversial these days (i.e that the “romantasy” books everyone seems to be reading these days are complete bilge).  I am now even more excited to read his book when it comes out in September, and it was very cool to hear from the man himself in-person. 

I’m now just going to type out an excerpt from the notes I made in my notebook whilst I was waiting for the event to start, to give you an idea of the kind of thing that goes on in my head: 

Busyness on the tube makes me happy? Beautiful young man sat near me at the James Marriott event – black quarter zip, blonde fluffy hair, glasses, jawline. So much beauty in the world, so much wonder, so many interesting things – do I just need to find someone to share it with? Oh my GOD he is drinking San Pellegrino. How quickly can you fall in love with someone? I need to be in London for the incredible events The Times puts on if nothing else. What did I do to deserve such beauty? Is there anything I can do to deserve someone to share it with? Hot lad sits in front of me with his Dad and says “guess what I’m going to do whilst we wait”, they both smile at each other and simultaneously say “DOOMSCROLL”. This generation is so cooked. Actually, I’ve just thought, how nice it must be to come to stuff like this with your Dad? In another life, perhaps. I wish I had the balls to talk to people, there are so many beautiful and interesting looking people here. 

I did write down one more note, this one from the train journey home. I decided to FaceTime my Mother, largely so I could say hello to Forest, but the connection failed. I called her back and she said “it just came up saying ‘Harold’s Connection Unstable’ – I said to Don, that’s the story of his life really isn’t it”. Charming. 

I got back to the flat just before 11pm, and decided I was so exhausted that I would treat myself to a lie in until 7am this morning. It was sorely needed according to my Fitbit. I might go to the gym later, I might not, who knows, who cares? All I know is that I’ve had my coffee and poached eggs on toast, and even if I am faced with another day of the most boring conference on earth, I am so grateful to be blessed with this wonderful, exciting, interesting, beautiful life. 

H x

Thursday 18th June 2026, 10:50

Yesterday was rather uneventful. I snuck away from both sessions of the conference early and spent much of my day watching YouTube videos and listening to music. I had beans on toast for my lunch and stir fry for my tea, and also managed some writing on a new essay I am working on. 

I slept awfully last night and woke up feeling rather groggy, but that didn’t stop me from running 4 miles this morning along the promenade. Unfortunately it is a rather miserable, overcast day, but it was still nice to take in the fresh sea air and the lovely views of the beach. For breakfast I had some protein cereal, a black coffee and a cigarette – the fuel of a true athlete. 

I walked out of the morning session of the conference after just half an hour today. The three motions prioritised for debate this morning were on Palestine, Cuba, and International Justice, whatever the fuck that means. Regardless of your opinion on these things, I find it shameful that this is the priority. Are trade unions not there to represent their members? If they are (which you would like to think that they are, but they often act as if they’re not), should it not be discussions on Local Government Reorganisation, Low Pay, Privatisation & Outsourcing etc that should be the priority? LGR is 13th on the remaining order of business, meaning it is highly unlikely that we’ll get to debate it, despite the fact UNISON has over 500,000 members in Local Government and this is the biggest change to their working conditions in over 50 years. With the greatest of respect to the tragedy unfolding in Gaza, should we not be more focused on our members’ ability to put food on the table and pay their rent, as opposed to a war happening thousands of miles away? 

I know that the diehard trade unionists, which are the only ones that bother to attend these types of conferences, are all communist lunatics, but even so, I am still surprised by their casual disregard for the issues that genuinely impact their members, and their almost obsessive focus on matters of geopolitics. On what planet could they possibly believe that a motion passed at the UNISON Conference is going to have any bearing at all on the decisions Benjamin Netanyahu makes? It is absurd, it is arrogant, it is delusional and it is a dereliction of duty to the members that work hard, pay their subscription fees and expect their voices to be heard and represented by their delegates. 

Other than that, the conference is going well. H x

Friday 19th June 2026, 07:55

I awoke to the news that Andy Burnham won the Makerfield by-election, and by quite an impressive margin too, so it now looks all but certain that he will become our next Prime Minister. I would suggest that, regardless of the question, if the answer is Andy Burnham, then we really are fucked. Even for a modern politician, his complete lack of ideology is somewhat impressive, or at least it would be impressive if it were not so laughably predictable and depressing. This is a man who I honestly believe would nationalise his own Grandma if he thought it would win him a few extra votes, a man who almost manages to make Kier Starmer look principled. I will put two things on the record now so that you can hold me to them in future – first, I think we would be better off in the long-term if Starmer remained as PM, which demonstrates if nothing else the complete lack of talent amongst our current political class, and second, that Burnham’s popularity will drain away so quickly that Labour will be discussing a change of leader again before the next general election. God help us all. 

The rest of yesterday was rather uneventful. I made myself burgers and fries for tea (low fat burgers, darling, of course), made a few phone calls, watched some YouTube, and worked through my finances. It now looks like an ever more realistic possibility that my debt could be paid off by the end of the year, which is an immense relief and fills me with even more happiness. This morning, I ran to the gym, did a pull session, and then walked back. I’ve decided not to have breakfast because I need to try and eat less – I have noticed a bit of weight creeping back on, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing if it muscle growth (which I am hoping it is), but still, I don’t want to end up a big porker again.

Today, thank god, is the last day of the conference. I cannot wait for this nightmare to be over. H x

Friday 19th June 2026, 21:40

I am quite battered. Don’t you think Sabrina Carpenter is so fucking hot? I am an out and proud batty boy, but my god, I would let her give me a kiss. If I looked like that, I’d have every man in Hollywood queueing up to my bedroom door. That reminds me of Bonnie Blue actually – isn’t she just such an enormous whore? Fair play babe, you’re a millionaire, but you must get a bit of a fucking draught down there. I’m currently watching the Tears music video on YouTube, by the way – this hasn’t just randomly come to my mind. Did you see that Sabrina did a song with Madonna recently? How the fuck is Madonna even still alive? 

I decided, after such a hard and exhausting week, to treat myself to a Chinese tonight. I got as far as putting stuff in my basket on Uber Eats before deciding actually, do you know what, I am going to be sensible. Oh, I forgot to say, how stunning is Ross Lynch? Watch him in the music video with Troye Sivan – something that sexy should be illegal. Anyway, to cut a long story short, for the same price as the Chinese I had planned to order, I got some sweet & sour chicken, egg fried rice, duck spring rolls, four Asahi beers, a bar of dairy milk, and some toilet rolls from Waitrose. Who says I’m not financially prudent? Well, everyone, but they can all fuck off. 

So, to come back to my original point, I have had four beers and almost an entire bottle of wine. I have ran of out cigarettes, which, frankly, is an abuse of my human rights. If this Labour Government wasn’t so completely embedded with rampant homophobia, they would have 40 Marlboro Gold delivered to my doorstep every morning, yet they continue to prioritise such pathetic uses of taxpayer money such as education and policing. Who gives a fuck about your children getting GCSEs when I can’t even get a Marlboro Gold? By the way, I think Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter might be the greatest song of all time. 

Jesus, Harry Styles is getting old, but he’d definitely still get it. I’ve been watching clips of 8 out of 10 Cats from the mid 2000s and it amazes me how ruthless the jokes about fat people used to be. I think it is a shame that we’ve lost that – perhaps if we still maintained that perfectly appropriate level of ridicule, we wouldn’t have so many large people claiming Personal Independence Payments because they’re so fat that they can’t get out of bed. Ross Lynch is so fucking hot, don’t you agree? God I hate fat people. Andy Burnham can fuck off as well. 

I need to lose 47 kilograms and punch someone in the face. I miss Elia, on a very deep and emotional level, because we have so much in common and her friendship makes me feel complete, and I also miss the twink (referenced here), because he was fucking hot. I love Robbie Williams. Do you not find it utterly terrifying how quickly our youth escapes us? It seems like just yesterday that I was trying my hardest to ensure the invites to my latest house party satisfied the social dynamics of my Sixth Form and would ensure I remained atop the popularity pyramid, yet today, all of a sudden, I find myself trying to manage £25m of third-party spend in line with our strategic organisational priorities. What the fuck does that even mean? How did that even happen? Life passes you by without you realising – one minute you think you’re invincible, teasing older men but then somehow getting your heartbroken, and the next minute you’re teasing younger men and breaking their hearts. The circle of life? The inevitability of ageing? Whatever it is, I both welcome and resent it in equal measure.

IT’S MURDER ON THE DANCEFLOOR, YOU BETTER NOT KILL THE GROOVE. I want to go out and get fucked up. 

One thing I love about the street I am staying on is that everyone has ground floor bay windows, and most of the time, they keep them open. I was outside having a cigarette earlier and this weird looking old bloke walked past, giving me evils, and I thought OH FUCK YOU, but then the woman in the kitchen in the flat a few doors down from me said OH HI MARK, and he went to say hello to the lad she was with, and I thought, what the fuck, do people still have this level of community, this level of casual intimacy? I was almost jealous, and perhaps would have been, if I were able to feel emotion. Also, I would implore you to take a moment to consider the composition and wording of my sentences – do you think AI could produce sentences like this? Could it fuck. I would fight Sam Altman in a car park and absolutely batter him. 

I hate advertising, and I hate social media, and I hate poor people, and Americans, and I absolutely hate Zack Polanski. Get your teeth done you ugly bastard. I’ve just seen someone I went to university with complete their PhD as well. What the fuck? Prick. I could do a PhD if I wanted to, I just can’t be bothered because I am too fat. I tell you what though – I wouldn’t  mind a go on Central Cee.

Right, it’s 22:35 now. I have literally been sitting typing this for 55 minutes. Spellcheck has been a blessing. Goodnight. H x

Saturday 20th June 2026, 16:15

I managed to make the 16:07 to Lichfield Trent Valley with two minutes to spare, which was a mighty relief, as I’d have had 40 minutes to waste at London Euston if I had missed it. Lauren came to visit me today, but she informed me upon arrival that she was only staying until mid afternoon, so I made the decision to head home early because, frankly, I was bored. Brighton has bored me. 

I woke up at 8am this morning with a bit of a sore head. I had six unopened texts from Lauren, the last of which was advising of her imminent arrival, so I quickly jumped up and tidied the flat. I had a slight headache but, considering I drank four beers and a bottle of wine last night, I was in remarkably good shape. Lauren arrived, we chatted for a bit, I got dressed and we headed down to the promenade. 

Remember how chuffed I was with completing Parkrun in under 30 minutes last weekend? I did it in 26m 54s this week, knocking a further 2m 40s off my personal best. I am absolutely ecstatic with this result and genuinely feel really proud of myself. I must give a shout out to Lauren, as she essentially dragged me around the last few kilometres (motivationally, not literally), but yes, what a result, especially considering I was carrying a mild hangover. Oh, and of course, there was so much talent there, some of whom decided they’d be more comfortable running topless, which should definitely be illegal. 

After popping back to the flat for a shower, we headed into the city centre for a wander. We frequented plenty of charity shops and bookshops, and even a few art galleries, and it was glorious. We found a bookshop where every book was £5 or less, which might be my new favourite place in the whole world, and we visited a photobooth place and had some cute bestie pictures. 

We called in at a deli and got some sandwiches, fries and chicken tenders for lunch, and strolled down to the beach to eat them by the sea. I will cut a very long story short here – we got attacked (and I mean, literally, attacked) by seagulls not once, not twice, but three times, and we lost most of our sandwiches in the scuffles. As you can imagine for a deli in the middle of Brighton, they weren’t fucking cheap, so I had to laugh, otherwise I would have cried. It was actually quite traumatising, they’re horrible ratty like creatures up close, and once they’ve snatched it out of your hands, it’s like a million of them suddenly appear out of nowhere to share in their bounty. I have now decided that my voting preference in the next general election will be based solely on whichever party promises to implement a ruthless cull of these disgusting little bastards.

Anyway, we were still hungry, so we got some fish & chips and decided to eat them back at the flat, out of fear for our safety more than anything else. The weather was also quite overcast and it kept drizzling, which was very disappointing, as we had both been hoping for a bit of tanning and swimming at the beach. We then got an Uber to the train station and began our respective journeys home. I had a bloody good time, despite the seagulls, and it was so nice to see Lauren. 

That was my week in Brighton. I hope you enjoyed coming along for the ride. H x