London.

One of those days – lost my phone, never a good thing, feeling isolated – people used to exist perfectly well without mobile phones, but expectations are raised – people now expect you to have a phone, when previously nobody had phones, so it was okay if you didn't have one either. Was late for lunch wit h WCH; pleasant enough lunch – discussed, among other things, the Arsenal-Liverpool game last night (a real cracker, that one), and Monty Python ("Help! Help! I'm being oppressed!").

No internet access for 36 hours so far; am feeling disconnected. Definitely an internet junkie, now. None of that stuff about physical withdrawal symptoms – am not actually having the shakes, for example – but am feeling nervous and unsettled, need internets now. Very nearly paid GBP5 for 30 minutes of access at a Starbucks – bad idea, no doubt, but verging on reasonable for me. A symptom? Left London A-Z at WCH's office – had to walk back. No museums today, am sad, sad, sad.

On plus side, match tonight should see Manchester United go through to the Champions League semi-finals. Hooray.

Am tired, tired, tired. Walking.

YT was boring. Pleasant, but boring. I do like her, but she's so... bleh. Trying to find something particularly interesting that she does or thinks or says is a bit like trying to hit a fly with a BB gun in pea soup. Lots of pea soup. A large barrel of pea soup. I wonder what she is thinking in her lawyerly little head. Curious. Friendly, but not thinking with her dick (which she doesn't have, of course, which probably works in her favour). Wish I could do that. It's difficult. Lobotomy plz kthxbye.