In a few hours' time I'll be in Milan with middle daughter. I saw a flight for £20 return and she's found us a cheap place to stay on the outskirts. Before that I had to finish a week's work as what was sold as an office cleaner, but there was a lot of toilet involved. One of the detergents was called Polish Cleaner.
It was in a fleet car leasing firm's offices. There were racks where you can catch up on back issues of Fleet Leasing. The packaging of an unwrapped headset had a picture of a baby crawling about with a plastic bag on its head and a red line through it.
On a whiteboard, people's names in circles together with a number, as if anyone's ever been motivated by being shamed. "Let's smash it!" said the slogan, above coloured stars in felt-tip. I debated as to whether dead flies are general waste or recycling, and wondered if the administrative classes and I were thinking the same thing about each other: "glad I'm not doing your job."
It began at six, which entailed getting up at half four. Cath lent me a front light for my bike. Scary bits of rusting public sculpture along the cycle path in the dark, looking like rapists. In the afternoon, male cyclists in skin-tight lycra tore along as though late for an S&M party.
When I left they offered me a full-time position, on the minimum wage. Instead, I went and had my hair cut quite severely. Middle daughter said "you actually look quite cool, which is a bit worrying as that's not the way I'm used to seeing my papa."
Breaking away from the loud improv theatre of the winos sitting around in the park, a large brown dog lopes up to me. I start stroking it and talking to it, and its owner comes up and apologises, swinging what remains of a bottle of rosé. "But you don't mind?" "No, no, not at all. She looks friendly enough."
He tries the traditional scam of saying that they're just off to get some crack if I'd like to chip in, but they remain chatty and I am invited to join them. On this occasion I wanted to ring Kitty, but I can tell it won't be long before I am admitted into park society.
Hayley, posing as an estate agent, rings and leaves a message on my phone.
Oh hello Mr Looby, this is Barbara from Abbey Lets. It's just about your references for the new house. Unfortunately it has come back saying that you are a dirty Northern cunt. If you'd like to get back in touch and discuss this with me, the number is 01637 suck my cock 425. Thank you!