(diaryland) November 07, 2005 - 12:52 a.m.

Jesus Christ, I hate holidays. I have begun hanging around in my pyjamas, eating musk sticks and drawing pictures furiously, then at dark, playing nocturnes out of an open window. I think the kids next door might need to get some sleep when I'm doing this.

I can tell in about a month's time, I will be up every night at 5:22AM trying to download an ancient mac game and having it fuck up all the time. I might need an intervention by that stage. Last year, it was stamp collecting.

Yesterday, Roland and I tried to find treasure at the beach with the metal detector, except some boys followed us and asked us questions and also I got a headache. Then we found a second-hand bookshop and went crazy.

I got an autobiography of Gloria Swanson, and The Loved One by Evelyn Waugh (maybe one of my top ten novels, ever), and a big colourful book about Rodin. Next time, I want to get a biography about Prince Yussoupov I found way down the back of the shop.

Roland got one of my other top ten novels ever, being The West Pier by Patrick Hamilton, and also a Spike Milligan book with lots of world records in it. It is excellent! Here is one of the most important records: