I was going to go up to Central London after work this afternoon - despite the fact that my job is in the suburbs of the capital, I haven't been up to 'town' since April, apart from catching trains to and from Paddington on odd occasions - but, in the event, I've decided to abort the trip and head back to my accommodation instead. My decision was partly to do with the uncertain weather, the morning having been punctuated with heavy showers and the afternoon promising more of the same, but the main reason I'm back in my room was that when I thought about why I'd planned the trip, the answer was, purely and simply, boy watching. Trying to be as realistic as I can about it, spending hours looking at what I want but can't have wasn't, in my present fragile emotional state, a very good plan. Ironically, though, getting off the train at my local station, I saw an absolutely delicious cutie of around the 'magic' age, 12 or 13. I was almost tempted to try and speak to him, suicidally reckless though that would have been - he wasn't with an adult, unusually these days, just with another boy of around the same age. My usual cowardice intervened, but it was a close run thing. I really do need saving from myself at times.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
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