21 March 2004 (Sunday): I feel like the most criticised man in history. I guess I must be doing something right then.

Another message, another non-response. I could have been more forward but that may have been too much. Who am I kidding, either way I’m going to arse things up and humiliate myself. It’s all about timing and timing is out of my control. I need preparation, I need to be prepared, and timing does not assist this.

On Friday she called me the name of somebody who once had a crush on her and semi stalked her. That’s the worst sign of all. How can two people so self-absorbed ever make room in each other’s lives for one another? I was around hers for four and a half hours Saturday afternoon but who’s counting. A ray of hope, her sister embarrassed her over her hygiene in front of me. Was the risk of grossing me out and turning me off or just a way too high threshold of sensitivity? Fingers crossed the former.

To date there have been three good opportunities to kiss her, to turn this into something real. It has been well over a year now of not knowings and pregnant pauses inserted into my most enjoyable moments of more than the last twelve months. I type this as an admission, a confession using words and language I cannot muster in real life nee vocal vocabulary. I am not oral, I am anal.

On a brighter note, today Millwall fucking thumped West Ham, it is almost embarassing. Millwall blasted them 4-1 and managed to miss two penalties in the process. I listened to game on BBC London (via the internet) at my parents and I could not believe what I was hearing. West Ham started things off by scoring an own goal for Millwall before Cahill got a couple and Chadwick knocked on in. The atmosphere on the radio sounded absolutely killer and apparently the West Ham fans became a bit upset to say the least and police horses were called onto the pitch. Ha ha, Premier league team my arse.

22 March 2004 (Monday): I march into work in the knowledge that yesterday Millwall beat West Ham 4-1 and that nothing can top that. Rema rema.

Today I am continuing work on a job called Acme Plumbing. This work is not accountancy, it is bookkeeping. An accountant is a qualified professional whereas a bookkeeper is any ignorant bod with some time on their hands. So there goes with my attitude to today’s work.

This week is Mark And Lard’s last week on Radio One, a nation should mourn.

At lunchtime Stevo, Ivan and I go for lunch. Stevo suggests the new place called Nandos. When we arrive there, there is a man outside running around in a chicken suit! The chicken asks us if we would like a free meal and I begin to think I am tripping. The food is fantastic and the price is right, this is the best way to eat out.

The evening is wasted, spent playing Pro Evolution Soccer on Playstation.

23 March 2004 (tuesday): Another day at work, another day finding me working on the car crash client/job that is Acme Plumbing. The guy is really likeable but his records are terrible (non-existent) and this is just the kind of job/client that working on causes a person (an accountant) to lose the will to live.

In the evening I get home bored and lonely. Rightly or wrongly I register on the singles website MuslimFriendship.com. Am I bad boy?

Later on I find myself staggering around cyberspace and the AOL internet chat rooms. My god these are moronic, full of stupid people it seems. I opt out of the themed rooms and go to a thirties singles chat room where I eventually wind up IMing with a woman with the screename Yoj Noisivid. She is called Paula and we talk for a good spell, discussing real things of importance in life and she is tipsy from drinking a whole bottle of wine. After revealing that I am not really 30 (she being 38), she eventually sends me a photo and she is gorgeous. I send one and I am not. Soon afterwards, in the late hours of the evening, we go to bed (seperately).

np: Kevin Shields - City Girl