Saturday 7th November 2026, 06:55

I’m walking to the Co-Op to get a copy of The Times. It’s extremely foggy, but I quite like that – I feel like it gives the street a romantic feel. Since I moved down here I’ve gone back to having a physical newspaper instead of the digital version, albeit only at the weekends due to the sheer expense of it these days, but my god, it is worth it. It’s the same as books, really – it just is not the same reading them on a screen.

I’m actually a few minutes early to the Co-Op as it doesn’t open until 7. I find it mind boggling that I can’t find a shop or a newsagent open before 7am in a Zone 3 suburb of London, even the Tesco Express in Hilton opened at 6am for goodness sake. I also kind of resent that I have to get the paper from a supermarket chain and not an independent newsagents, as it’s important to support independent businesses of any kind where possible, but alas, that seems to be the way of the world these days.

I just walked in and they hadn’t put the newspapers out yet, even though they were there in their bundles, waiting to be unwrapped. I asked a female member of staff, very politely, if she could get me a copy of The Times out, but she said no, she hadn’t had time yet, and I should come back later. You do see, dear shop worker, that they’re right there in front of you, and you could quite easily open the bundle and get me a copy? It would take you 15 seconds at the most? Oh well, I guess that’s that. I’m now going to walk to Sainsbury’s, which is slightly further away, and I won’t be returning to the Co-Op for my morning paper again, out of principle of course. Good customer service is a dying art in our age of relentless busyness, faux or otherwise (definitely faux in this case).

It goes from bad to worse, as Sainsbury’s don’t even have them in yet. What on earth is happening? How can it be this hard to get a newspaper at 7am on a Saturday morning? I’ve asked ChatGPT, and it has confirmed that there are no independent newsagents within a 20 minute walk of my house, so it must be true. I genuinely cannot overstate how depressed that makes me, another nail in the coffin of civilisation itself, our descent into authoritarian, screen-based rule becoming ever more inevitable by the day.

FUCK CHATGPT – I FOUND A NEWSAGENT! Some good old fashioned elbow grease (and Google maps) and I have found one on Chestnut Grove, which is about a ten minute walk from my house. It’s a proper newsagent with the papers in the shelves outside, and they even accept the vouchers that The Times gives you to exchange for a paper, which not many newsagents do these days, somewhat ironically.

Ah, I feel much better about the world now, I feel as though all is well again. Yin has been returned to Yang and balance has been restored to the universe. I am honestly over the moon, that has brightened my day, and I shall be using Grove Food & Wine for my newspaper needs for the foreseeable future.

Saturday 7th November 2026, 08:50

I’m standing outside a cafe in South Clapham waiting for my friend Lauren, as we’re doing Clapham Parkrun together this morning. One of the things I love most about London is how much everyone loves exercising, it’s just so nice to see so many people out running in the mornings. It makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger, part of a community, even if I don’t speak to these people (which I obviously never would), I feel like I’m not alone, which is nice.

Saturday 7th November 2026, 09:55

Ah, the walk home from a Parkrun, full of self-satisfaction and that glorious post-run buzz. Lauren made me run slow as part of her training regime for a triathlon, so I only managed a measly time of 35mins, but it was nice to take a gentler pace around the common. Unfortunately, the queue at the end was huge, which meant they wouldn’t have recorded my time accurately, so I didn’t bother getting one, which means it won’t be recorded as an official Parkrun on my record. I know these people volunteer their own time to put these events on, but frankly, it just isn’t good enough, and they ought to sort their shit out.

I’ve just popped into M&S to get a steak pie and some potatoes, as I really fancy pie and mash for my dinner this evening, with assorted veg and gravy. I’m salivating just thinking about it. I should just have time for a shower and a bacon sandwich when I get home, before heading off to the bookshop for my volunteer shift. It’s almost idyllic, life, sometimes.

Saturday 7th November 2026, 15:00

I love volunteering at the bookshop. I’m not even going to say anything myself, I’m just going to enclose some pictures of messages that were left in books that were donated that made me really happy:

Saturday 7th November 2026, 17:40

I’ve just made myself steak pie, mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables and gravy for my dinner, and it was delectable. I enjoyed it whilst watching an episode of QI – I recently made the decision to watch the entire programme from the beginning, and I’m currently halfway through Series 2, constantly being reminded quite how smart and witty Stephen Fry is.

I spent the rest of my afternoon working on a business idea I’ve had, so I shall probably spend this evening enjoying some leisure time. I’ll likely either read a book or write something, probably the former.

Sunday 8th November 2026, 06:55

I’m currently on the toilet at the gym – the early bird catches word, as they say. I love coming to the gym at this time on a Sunday because it’s absolutely deserted. I counted four other people in here when I came in, as opposed to dozens and dozens on a weekday morning. I hate how overcrowded gyms can be, and I hate the fact that I’m a wage slave, and therefore have to come at the same time as all the other wage slaves Mon-Fri, but unfortunately, these are the facts of life.

Recently, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about what I could do to free myself from this modern version of indentured servitude. Alas, I haven’t come up with any plausible ideas, although I feel as though it is becoming more urgent – whilst I can admit I do enjoy some of the trappings of a good salary in a modern consumerist society, I’m increasingly aware that the extent to which I have to sacrifice my true wants and needs to achieve said salary is not worth it.

Oh well, at least the coffee machine at the gym is free on the weekends. God bless our capitalist overlords for the breadcrumbs they chuck us to keep us placated enough to prevent riots à la French style!

I finished a book last night and finished reading the day’s paper too. I browsed some museum/gallery websites to see if anything interesting is going on before Christmas, and I turned the back of my bedroom door into a new art feature by tearing out photographic portraits from a picture book I bought from the charity shop for £1 and sticking them in a random pattern. I’ll give you one guess as to the theme of said photographic portraits.. It was a delightful evening all in all.

Once I’ve finished at the gym, I’ll pop to my new favourite newsagent for a copy of The Sunday Times, before heading home to survey the day as it unfurls outwards before me in all of its beauty. Endless opportunities, endless possibilities, here in the capital of the world.

Sunday 8th November 2026, 07:45

Never Had A Dream Come True by S Club 7 has just come on whilst I’m doing ab crunches. It’s unironically making me feel a bit emotional – have I ever had a dream come true? I honestly don’t know. Is living in London a dream? Being a procurement consultant? Getting my hair back (although this did cost thousands of pounds, so not sure it counts as a dream)? I wonder if I will ever have a dream come true. What is my dream? What do I really want? Perhaps it would help if I knew.

People always say it’s their dream to win the lottery, don’t they, but what would they do if they did win, and they could quit their job, and they were then left alone with their own thoughts? I don’t think any of us really, truly know what we want, and whilst I wouldn’t necessarily be uncomfortable being left alone with my own thoughts, as I suspect most people would be, I’m still not entirely sure what I’d actually want to do.

Do you have a dream?

Sunday 8th November 2026, 10:50

I’m now lying on my bed. I’ve opened my patio doors (patio might be a stretch, let us call it an outdoor space) and turned on Radio 3, ready to relax for a while, having just walked to the off licence for a can of Monster Energy Ultra, which, for the uninitiated amongst you, is the zero calorie, sugar free version, because, well, of course it is – you don’t look this good drinking the full fat version of things.

I’ve read The Sunday Times and had some marmite on toast. It took me longer than it usually would to read the paper because my housemate Travis came into the kitchen and kept making small talk with me. He is a lovely guy in fairness, very friendly and helpful, but my god he can talk. I suppose I shouldn’t whinge, it’s nice to have someone to talk to, and every now and again he even says something interesting – for example, earlier on he said he doesn’t agree with Andrew Tate and all of these toxic masculinity influencers, but he does believe that modern white men have been taught to be ashamed of their masculinity and are perhaps underrepresented in today’s society to a certain extent (I’ve paraphrased here). I actually found myself genuinely agreeing with him, as opposed to my usual routine of nodding and agreeing just to end the conversation as quickly as possible (I do this to almost everyone, I’m not just singling out poor Trav).

Lauren has invited me to the pub at 3 o’clock with some of her friends to watch England play rugby. I couldn’t give less of a toss about rugby, but it will be nice to get out of the house and maybe meet some new people. The real question is whether to treat myself to an afternoon pint, because, of course, you’re then faced with the real problem of whether it can be limited to just the one, or two, or three..

Carl has just texted me to announce that he’s purchased a PS5 in anticipation of GTA VI being released soon. My friend Harry has also purchased one this week. I’ve suggested to both of them, and to my other friend Lewis, that we play a bit of GTA Online soon to get us in the mood for the big reveal (individually, of course – the group dynamics if I brought the four of us together would certainly be interesting). It’s all getting very exciting – I’m even considering booking the day after the release as annual leave, so I can play interrupted all day, since I have a spare day I need to use by the end of the year anyway.

With that being said, I think I need another shit.

Sunday 8th November 2026, 14:25

I’m now walking to Lauren’s house, having spent the best part of the last 3 hours on GTA Online with Lewis. We did a few races, stole some military jets and went around murdering people. It was rather fun.

I’m not really sure why I’m going to watch rugby, I think rugby is fucking boring, but I’ve decided I do quite fancy a nice Sunday afternoon pint and a few cigarettes, and I might even treat myself to some pub grub, so why fucking not go and watch some rugby? All I’ve had so far today is three slices of marmite on toast, a protein bar and an apple, so I deserve a pint really, as I’m practically wasting away.

I know what I’ll do, I’ll have a really randomly specific bet on the match, and that will make it much more fun to watch – it might be a bit easier to cheer England on if I need them to win by exactly 45-17.

Shit, I’ve forgotten to take a heartburn tablet. I take a Lanzoprazole every time I drink, because I suffer from horrific heartburn when on the booze. It must be a hereditary thing, as Sam and Kiera suffer from it too. I’m actually going to run back home and have one, such is the severity with which the disease will attack me otherwise. A reminder, by the way, that I’ve been doing this for about 10 years, and I am 27 years old. Don’t drink as teenagers, kids.

I’ve just seen a bloke pissing up a wall. It’s half past two on a Sunday afternoon. God I love this country.

Sunday 8th November 2026, 18:40

I’ve had 4 pints and just ordered a large glass of white wine, so you can tell which way this afternoon is going. Lauren also ordered an antipasti board, which was, quite simply, sublime. I’ll enclose a pic:

Lauren’s friend Jonny has joined us for the afternoon, and he is an absolute delight. We’ve had several interesting conversations already, the contents of which I cannot divulge for reasons both decent and legal, but it’s safe to say he’s a fascinating chap. Apparently there are a few more people on the way to join us for the pub quiz that starts at 19:30. Wonderful!

Sunday 8th November 2026, 21:20

We came 5th out of 15 in the pub quiz. There were six of us in the end, as Lauren’s friends Lauren (they have the same name, I’m not that drunk) and a woman whose name I didn’t get (but I did find out she’s a lesbian) joined us, and then Lauren’s latest dating conquest also came along. I’m actually still in the pub with them, but I’m tired now and starting to sober up (I’ve had 4 pints and 3 large glasses of wine), and it feels like the night is drawing to its natural close, so I’m going to walk home and see if I can find somewhere that’s selling chips.

Life, my friends, is fucking fantastic.