Wandering Downwards

I try to access my CV, saved to my e-mail, but am unable to because I do not have Microsoft Office. I leave the house instead - it is midday - and wonder down to the beach. I drink a can of Diet Coke and look at the waves. It is somehow too warm and cold at the same time.
I meet Em at Hove library, and we wander back down the beach. Tea at Mrs Bumbles. Sit back on the stones, and feel the sick anxiety I cannot shake begin to grow, again. Em leaves for work and I wander into town. Waterstones, Trafalgar Street Records, a couple of bookshops down the North Laine. I don't buy anything and end up at the beach again.
I get a cup of tea and sit on the stones. Watch the sea again. I try and do some drawing, but feel a little bit nauseous. I continue reading Phil Rickman's The Secret of Pan, and after I have finished my coffee begin to fall into a fitful sleep. The jagged shards of dreams just beginning.
After a while I wander up the promenade, end up buying another coffee at the petrol station by the swimming pool. This is a couple of hours since I first hit the beach. I find a bench on the seafront and watch it get dark. A bloated beautiful sun like some pregnant horror comic icon hanging over the distant power station. The Shoreham industrial zone seems swathed in mystery. When the sun has gone, I continue walking, the red lights on the chimney, the street lights of even further distant Worthing. I walk slowly. I am in no hurry to get anywhere.