"THIS IS A LOCAL SHOP. THE STRANGERS YOU WOULD BRING WOULD NOT UNDERSTAND US, OUR CUSTOMS, OUR LOCAL WAYS" My fingers are cramping. I just sent out 46 emails. Fuck. Yesterday the Korean girl came back into the store and presented me with a small plastic version of Mashi Maro complete with plunger and small pillow. I didn't really know what to say. I will photograph the little guy later and post him up. Odd day to say the least. Some of my best friends are strangers... Just before I left work two American girls came in and asked me the quickest and cheapest way to get to Manchester. When I explained that that was tricky apart from the horrors of National Express they looked ready to burst into tears. Seems they came into town yesterday with a bunch of friends to see 'Dirty Vegas', lost their ride home and had their bags stolen. No money, no credit cards, no mobile phones, no way home. One of them lived and studided in Manchester but the other was here on holiday. I rang National Express and got the details of the next coach for them. �17 each leaving at 11.30 pm and getting into Manchester at 5.30 am. Like I said, National Express is fucking awful. They had a �20 note between them. They decided to ring one of their mothers in the States who could buy a coach ticket over the phone with her credit card leaving them enough cash to grab something to eat. I found this unacceptable and suggested they come back home with me, grab something to eat, make some calls, come up with a better plan and not just rush off to spend part of the night in Victoria Coach Station and the rest of the night crawling along the motorway - of course they declined even after I promised not to cut them up into little pieces (nervous laugh). Can't blame them at all but it sucks to think that even the most genuine of offers has to be looked on as some kind of veiled threat. I gave them my phone numbers and wished them well. I guess they are already home and cursing London by now... Jo remarked that she has worked here for three years and never really 'spoken' to a customer and here am I, a month in and already asking them home. Then there are the free rabbits... A few nights ago I sparked up a conversation with a girl on the tube simply because she was reading Ghostwritten. Once she realised I wasn't hitting on her we had a cool discussion but she was very wary of me at the start... I must have serial killer written all over me. Anyway, I gotta run back into town to grab drinks and stuff before seeing Anthrax this evening. I already have 22 unread emails waiting for me... fuckaduck. Mike is blogging to: nothing