Cold Mechanics

5:47pm. Saturday afternoon, though this late in the year, anything after 4:00pm feels like night. Raining too - been raining all day. Only left the house to go to the Co-op down Portland Road for some gas and electric. Some food too, breaded plaice or haddock. Can't remember now, but they've left me sleepy and exhausted and the last thing I want to do is to go out tonight.

Sleep comes with guilt and fear these days. I remember the ecstasy of the petrol station days, those afternoons after an early shift when I would get home about 3:30pm. After a cup of tea, I would fall into bed, sleep for as long as I wanted, get up at evening time, a gradual awakening. More cups of tea, dinner, television.

The world always wants me these days - even at the weekend the world wants me - and the world is an alien and impersonal place, a mechanism really, particularly when all I want to do is day dream sleepily in the sublime quiet and dark of a late November night.

In a few hours I'll be in a noisy pub in the middle of town, unable to hear anyone, shouting conversations, the air thick and clogged with drunk people and alcohol and the smell of wet coats. I have a headache already.