Not sure what got into me, but this morning I packed a couple of sandwiches and headed towards the bridge in the hope of seeing the homeless man from yesterday. He wasn't there so I gave the sandwich to someone begging for change on the way back home. He didn't seem very impressed by my gracious gift. I guess its harder to buy booze with a cheese sandwich.
It was a fine day so I decided to take a long walk along the canal before returning home to a cup of coffee and my newspaper. I don't know why I bother with the news, so depressing. Why is it that people are more interested in bad news than good news? Perhaps its that apart from a morbid fascination with the suffering of others, we feel good that we are better off than those we read about.
Harry lies asleep on my bed, dreaming of great escapades involving the fairer sex, as I write and stare out the window. Life has taken quite a turn recently: Joe's death, Jojo's transformation, Harry, my new place, and Elsbeth. There's almost no reason to be a miserable old fart any more.
