The town was full of Halloween party goers making their way home. A girl in a red silk lined Dracula cape wandered along the Prom, alone and looking rather disconsolate with a long baguette in her hand. At the end of Terrace Road another girl in a sequin-dotted, mauve net tutu that revealed large black pants underneath, a black bra and black knee length socks had what looked like a unicorn’s horn on her head. A homeless man crouched in the doorway of Coffee# called out to her. Eh, what’s that you got on your ‘ed? She shouted back: wouldn’t you like to know, it might be a dildo. Is it? he called back. It might be, she replied. She was walking down the street with a lad. They parted at the corner and she made to cross the road, if a little unsteadily. Cross over, she shouted to him. Cross. He said something in return that I didn’t catch but ended his sentence with ‘you fucking slag’. Which she appeared to take in good part. As I made my way home, umbrella up against the rain, another girl with rabbit ears strapped to her head walked ahead of me, a boy joining her. My friends are all stuck up, she said to him.

My two big toes are still uncomfortable in my boots which is a bugger. I’ve tried all sorts, different socks, insoles and to no avail. It’s a mystery. It eases a little as I walk but it takes the edge off the pleasure. To be alive sometimes is to hurt, I think.

A milder morning that smelt of Autumn. He slept little last night, fretting about me. I try to gee him up, am I too brusque? I do understand. It’s in his nature to worry, as it is in mine. But I feel more detached than him. What will be will be. There is little we can do but wait. It may be something, it may be nothing.