Hi Peeps,
Well my poor mediator managed to get online and locate me, I was grumping crossly in the Brightish Library, my old haunt, do you remember? my long ago adventures on the streets of London.

Anyway, the mediator managed to entice me to the hotel with the offer of some nice food.
So I was enticed, I ate curry and drank pepsi and then I felt better and all was well and we tried to chat but he is a bit deaf and I have dysphasia and the canteen was being hoovered.

Anyway, we agreed it was a very basic hotel for the price and we remenisced about how the Bishop who destroyed me used to check into £1000 a night hotels.

Then I went to my room and had a shower while he did his emails.
I felt better for having had a shower and explored the room.
I tell you, peeps, that guesthouse I sometimes stay in is well worth the money compared to this, but never mind, even this is luxury for me.

Then we went out to look for a comfortable cafe to sit and chat, but there are not many comfortable cafes around here, so we sat in the corner of a food hall and had a coffee and chatted.

Then he went over to somewhere near Hyde Park to see his daughter, and I went up to a certain food run to see who of my old pals is still alive and around.
The food run was running as normal but all of my closest pals were absent, there were a few familiar faces, but my beloveds are either moved on, housed, dead or in prison and often no-one knows which, such is the way of things.

So, I wandered around and stayed on the edge, one girl shouted me over and I sat by her, she put her hands in mine and asked if I was new, I told her that I had been here, but years since, because I had been moving on all these years.
She gave me a hug, and we stayed there together and talked about our sorrows, such is the way of our life, only a street person can understand, the well meaning church people do not, and for a long time now I have needed my street brothers and sisters and the comfort they bring.

The food run arrived, but not one of the staff remembered me, it is years since I was there, broken and traumatized beyond anything and unlikely to live, years since the days when B. would fill my cup with tea over and over and count how many cups he could get me to drink. God bless him, wherever he is.

Sadly, tonight there is no tea, for the first time in the history of this longstanding food run, someone forgot to make the tea. So there is only orange juice. So much for anticipation and the good old days! Just my luck!

But thankfully the traditional boiled eggs and goody bags are still going strong, and there are sandwiches, though no cream cheese ones like there used to be. There are toiletries as well, so I stock up.

I say goodnight to my friends and melt back into the night, I hope B. is alive and not in some lonely London cemetery, but I will never know. A joyful and sorrowful reunion.

I headed back to the hotel, stopping to get some ingredients for cuppa tea, as there is never much in a hotel room.

I make my cuppa tea, it is impossible to log onto the internet up there, so here I am at midnight in a hotel foyer, this reminds me of something long ago in my early homeless days as I fled the church who I am to meet with tomorrow.

Anyway, as I had my cuppa tea, my mediator returned, looking very tired, he brought me a bag of books, clothes and toiletries that his daughter had put together for me, very generous, I am now getting laden down with new things.
My mediator was so tired he has gone to his room to sleep now, but I think I will buzz nortily around for most of the night, just cos I can.
Haha. caffeine! :) :) catch me if you can! :)

Tomorrow I will be executed, so I may as well have fun in the meantime! :)