This is not a brothel

Up at ten, breakfast at Perdoni’s again, back to the flat for mobile, wallet, that sort of thing, then walk up to town: I check out various things in Rymans, then Haru buys a new filofax at … um … Filofax, then we walk across to Regent Street.

We pass a building affixed with signs that say “This is not a brothel, please don’t keep ringing our doorbell”. Things have to get really bad if you have to get signs printed to tell people your house isn’t a brothel. Unless it is a brothel, of course, and you’re just trying to confuse the police.

Anyway, various other shopping, and I get a suit and cardigan from Salvation Army and, on the way back, various stationery from Ryman’s, again.

Back at the flat, drink tea and eat biscuits and admire our spoils.

In the evening I get noodles and wine from the Elephant shopping centre. We watch various comedy on television.