Today’s air quality is good. The Google map with the Environment Agency plug-in showing a country covered in green peas, showing that the pollution levels are low. They can’t be low. The air smells bad and there’s a mist clinging to the air. This afternoon I was ready to jog and I abandoned before I started. Thirty minutes ago, I jogged for 500 metres before giving up. Even a slow jog made me feel I was putting my health in danger, the back of my throat can still feel it. I really wanted to jog and my legs were feeling good.

I’m mad with Hilton hotels, They still need to sort out the £262.18 they tried to charge me. I chased twice today and they didn’t reply. Customer service said it would be a pleasure to help and it may take three days. Arhhggggggggggg. I know the world isn’t against me. With the right decisions in the distant past to recent past life could be different. It’s all my fault. I wish I didn’t feel so good, because look at the way things are going, it’s bloody awful.

My Novembers and Decembers are never that good for me. This year I’m doing it without any alcohol.

I got a bit distracted and wandered for five hours. It was mental wandering, and I’m sure I did something like feed myself. The emails to Hilton continue. It appears that they placed two 150 Euro blocks on my card and the problem may be on the way to being resolved. I don’t need this.

The little taste of poverty has been a shock and a lesson that I need to remember and act upon, but it’s no fun. Another plus is that I’ve started running again. I just wish that the air was better, because I needed the run today.

I’m listening to Question Time. Building more houses will save the homeless problem. I’m sure the homeless will be pleased. 1 in 200 Britons are homeless according to a new survey. Apparently, you have to live on the street to be homeless. Not having a home doesn’t qualify you to fit that category. We are doing it wrong.

It’s no use. I’m still mad about the bad air. Living where I do has made me so very unwell in the past and it can’t happen again.

Writing should be helping and it’s not. This isn’t changing my life yet.