I got up at about half past seven and took my time with the fags and coffee. I've got a bit of a hangover from the four pints of sheep-dip I got through last night.
I want to get my hair cut today. I hate going to the barbers. I think it's probably an autistic thing; the proximity, the contact, the being in front of people stuff. One or two deep breaths, best foot forward and all that should get me through the door.
I'm going to treat myself to one of the local butcher's lovely suet puddens for dinner. It's that sort of weather.
I've got my appointment with the counselor this afternoon.
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