I have met a woman. It's all rather sudden. She is not my girlfriend and she is not seeing me. We are not together. It is unlikely that any of these things will come to pass. She just wants to be friends. And have sex a lot. I am increasingly ok with this.

I have successfully conned convinced an editor at $Well_Known_UK_Broadsheet into letting me troll some of their online readers, but so far they're all too canny to bite. Plus I am competing with the relatively much more successful 'Pete Doherty is shit' and 'I am Alan McGee' trolls of today. On the other hand, I got to write some more - and bitchily - at relatively tedious length about that busking thing from the other week, and they even sort of pay, or claim to, in money and everything. Do it often enough and a body could make a living out of this shit. Apparently. Food for thought there.

I have now actually had sex in living memory. I may have already mentioned this. Apparently droughts can end.

Pigs, indeed, can fly.

There've been piano gigs recently and everything, though not properly paid ones. Must sort out this 'working for free' crap.

My London Underground Busker's License should come through in a few weeks. That'll help too.

Porridge. That is what my brain has turned to.

I love you.