My Second in Hope...

Just a quick one before I have to vacate this hotel room. I’ve got less than an hour.

This morning I find myself wondering what England would be like if it ever got really hot for more than a couple of days at a time. I wonder if it would change our national personality at all. I wonder if we’d be a little more laid back, a little less miserable. You know, on the whole. Also, I wonder whether we’d be better off if we had a more relaxed attitude towards prostitution. I suspect we would.

Last night I had a little wander and ended up in a section of town where prostitutes hang around in small perfumed gangs. I’m afraid I rather fell in love with at least two of them. But I didn’t rent one. As well as the personal fear factor, there’s also the moral thing. I mean, I’ve seen Lilya 4-Ever, and the last thing I want is to be part of the sex slave trade. That’s the last thing I want. But couldn’t I pay one or two a bunch of money to just kiss me for an hour or two? Would that be so bad? And maybe a little nuzzling.

God, I’m frustrated.

Anyhow, once I check out of this hotel, I’m going to find some green space if I can and see what the sun can do to me. I’m sick of foreigners telling me how white I am. Racists.

Then tonight I’m being set up. My friend here has a friend whom he thinks might be right up my alley. That’s not a particularly exclusive place to be though, it has to be said. The hope is therefore, that by the end of the evening I might be right up her alley. Otherwise I really might have to pay for a nuzzle.

Wish me luck.