Tonbridge railway station: among the people I met tonight were some ticket inspectors (Revenue Protection Officers). Always honest (my mouth; my heart; my sleeve), I made them aware of my situation: I didn’t offer it up (I never do) but I was asked, so I volunteered. As well as having the station manager’s sanction to avail of the waiting rooms (be tolerated) I now have that of the ticket inspectors too. Provided I don’t cause any problems: I don’t. Technically I’m in breach of the law but eyes can be blind and turned. And I used my charm again. I was honest though: my mouth; my heart; my sleeve.
Back to the book(s), then reluctantly to bed at Gilbert Arse (but all I do there is sleep). Another day out of the way; another day nearer the dreaded weekend but another day along the path.
And those who are still with me; those who care; stay aboard.