Sunday, 7th December, 1997 Nothing happens. Curry is eaten. Monday, 8th December, 1997 Nothing happens. I do kendo. I am in pain. My fault entirely. Tuesday, 9th December, 1997 Sleep. A quest for yoghurt turns into a quest for a duvet cover. Success. Fifth Avenue. Wednesday, 10th December, 1997 Dave relates a tale of the previous night, and then smashes a pint glass. Each to his own, I suppose. Thursday, 11th December, 1997 I buy boots and a train ticket. Friday, 12th December, 1997 I go and get the correct train ticket. Saturday, 13th December, 1997 I go and get a cheaper train ticket. I begin to dislike the train station intensely.
			The characters and situations in this diary are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings. Any resemblance to such things is coincidental, or just for humourous effect. All names have been chosen to implicate the innocent.