By the time I get to the end of the run I’m gonna have thews like Conan. I have to leave Bergman at the bottom of the hill as a changing room. So then I’m slogging up Swain’s Lane, which is San Francisco steep, with a doctor’s bag full of costume and wearing a riding cape and top hat. “Are you a ghost?” asks a six year old. No, I’m a grown-up pretending to be a ghost.”
What a way to make a living.
On the way past the cemetery today I spotted this sign. Evidently the zombie problem in the cemetery is such that they have to make dedicated thoroughfares:
The Flask is too pricey to drink at so I’m just having a mushroom soup. Costs about the same as a pint and it’ll give me the energy I need to push out into the cold. Temperature has dropped. Every day feels closer to winter. I’m gonna want my electric blanket before long.
Right now though it’s a weekend of yomping through the streets and heath, making stuff up and mixing it with truth. Stories. Fancies. Jokes. Fun.
I left my torch in Bergman today. Shame. I almost went and got it but honestly I just can’t face slogging up Swain’s Lane twice in one day. Not until I’m fitter in a few weeks time.
25 minutes to go. Time to switch my head…
AlBarclay 