On this Wednesday afternoon I rent a white van at the price of £40 per day (plus VAT) and I decide to keep this van for two days. Over these two days I play the role of some guy driving a white van. For this adventure I am wearing dark brown Timberland boots, black Ralph Lauren sweat socks, old jeans from Diesel and a red t-shirt with The London Fire Brigade Supports Pride written at the front in white caps.
Half an hour later I have crashed the white van into a bollard in a car park in Acton and have consequently lost my £100 deposit. I try to care about this, but what actually happens is that when I hear the sound of the bollard scraping the white paint off just above the left hand side head light, I reverse and drive back into it with more force. This is the kind of spineless self-harm I've been reduced to since I started self-medicating 20mg of Xanax on an 8-hourly basis.
On Wednesday evening, I get back in the van and start driving west, way out west, past any humanly acceptable border of London. It's around 0130 when I find myself outside Hounslow Central tube station parked on a double yellow listening to an hour of tearjerkers on Magic 105.4. Even with most of my mind numbed, no wait, lost, there is something comforting in the knowledge that no matter what happens, no matter what you do, no matter where you are, there will always be a late night radio station playing Richard Marx, Right Here Waiting For You.
Once that song ends and before the next tearjerker comes on, I get out and walk into the 24-hour Asda just off the Hounslow roundabout. I buy a pack of pumpkin seeds, two breaded chicken breasts and a box of Asda Extra Special chocolate truffles, which I leave on the pavement just outside the shop, get back in the van, drive back home (Listen To Your Heart, Carried Away, Crazy For You amongst others played on the way) and go to bed.
By Friday evening, and now van-less, I still haven't showered but I've changed into Timberland deck shoes, different pair of Diesel jeans and green/grey Lyle & Scott polo shirt. I walk to Caring Cross Road Sainsburys Local from ___ (where I'm staying right now) and buy a salmon pasta salad and two bottles of Frijj milkshake (limited edition chocolate brownie flavour with picture of Chief Wiggum on), all of which I eat/drink as I cross the road and go into Borders.
In Borders I walk up to the third floor and spend the rest of the evening looking through and taking pictures of the following books from the Home section: Victorian House Style / Georgian House Style / Wooden Houses: From Log Cabins To Beach Houses / Dictators' Homes: Lifestyles Of The World's Most Famous Despots. I'm sitting in a leather chair, there are several other people in chairs reading, Air's Talkie Walkie is playing through the speakers on the whole floor (I'm not sure about other floors), there is one guy with a pile of magazines including AXM who I glance over at regularly because he's gay and so am I, everyone goes home. I have not spoken to anyone for 49 hours.