Postcard from the Battery Farm Internet Cafe

In the battery farm internet cafe again. Chairs too low and the desks too high. Hunched over the keyboard like an old crow-like man. No privacy and a choking claustrophobia. Still too hot.
I really must find another lunchtime internet cafe.

Lots of odd dreams last, most of which I can't remember. One which I do recall was about a reality TV show where a group of oriental women were being trained as ghost hunters. They were marked according to how well they were able to investigate hauntings. One haunting they were investigating was in a building where the Tescos near Hove station is in waking life.

Waking from this dream by the 7:00am alarm. Night creeping into the day. When I woke, my room was still a twilight grey. Sat there with a cup of tea for an hour in the increasingly cool morning-shock light before I start work. When I left the house of bedsits, the sky was that uniform shade of grey common to early autumn.
A light rain and a daydreamy pull luring me to unseen horizons.

The new town out of the window has gone. I cannot get it back. There is a building I have not noticed before though, out on a hill. Or perhaps it is just a larger building than the others surrounding it. It resembles a prison-school, grey as the sky. The windows seem to be hidden. I can't quite work out where it is. New England House? Maybe.
It seems that windowpanes have a habit of confusing geography.

A short post for today because this internet cafe is the most ridiculous and uncomfortable in existence. My arm hurts from typing at a level near my chest.
Oh well.

Back into the grey day for me, and an afternoon that already seems to belong to evening.