Staying in a hostel for the first time ever. Rookie mistake I’m sure. Although I am sat in the middle of a pub full of drunken idiots now and I am able to block them out. Although they are fascinating, but also kind of sad. I just flicked my pen lid on the floor. I am too lazy, perhaps too fat to bother picking it up. I am close to dropping the shoot tomorrow, I am not sure the work is worth the money, in all honesty.
“Don’t worry about writing things down, enjoy life”. An elderly gentleman just sought conversation with me, curious about the pages I am writing. Friendly, almost a grand parent kind of figure. Curious to the fact it was a diary, fascinated by the fact my handwriting is neat. I hope my food order arrives soon. I’m hungry, and his gaze is earnest, somewhat. My mother taught me to always be polite, but I always ind it to be intrusive to interfere when a stranger is doing something.
- Note to self: Book a hotel next trip.
Ok, well thank god I got the bottom bunk, but I am definitely to tall for this business. I am almost 100 percent sure I will bang my head in the morning. I also methodically put my reflector in the top of my bag. My idea is that if someone will go in, this will unfurl in their face. Again, I will probably be the victim of this in the morning.
One of the photos I took of Jones was in ES Magazine today. I wish I had known, just so I could get a copy. When you are looking for things in London, you never seem to be able to find them.
Phone is now in flight mode. Goodnight.