Wednesday January 2 ^nd 2008
The trip to the pub was a washout. The Lame Duck is no more. A concrete shell with a faded wooden sign that some local wit has changed to The Lame Fuck. There was no sign of life and no indication of who owns it and how you could contact them. I tried a few of the nearby pubs but it was early and the bar staff were clueless — mostly telling me to come back later when the owner or manager was around.
I took myself up to the West End for a memory trip but I wasn’t in the mood. Everything reminds me of what I used to have. If it wasn’t the New Year break I would have ended up sitting in Victoria Park mixing with the retired, unemployed and scum — sad to say that today I was probably the only one that could lay claim to all three categories. The whole world was out taking the air — trying to shake off the excesses of the New Year and it made me feel crap.
I ate a Kit Kat but I wasn’t in need of the break — my life is one big break. Maybe tomorrow I’ll try the council and find out who used to hold the license at The Lame Duck.