Gut wrenching hatred!

I'm heading home from Soho clutching a rose, which I'm going to give to Nathan. He's doing a cabaret on the King's Road tonight, and I feel like I've been a little unsupportive of late; not that I feel a single flower is enough to assuage my guilt in any way!

My mind has been utterly occupied by this midnight parade tomorrow. This morning we were putting up posters in the windows of shops in Soho to advertise the event, and to appeal for witnesses to come forward. Two weeks on from the attack and nothing - absolutely nothing - is known about what happened. It shouldn't be that easy to get away with attempted murder. 

Some shopkeepers were incredibly helpful; particularly those in Clone Zone and some of the shops and bars on Compton Street. They took our posters, displayed them prominently, and wished us well with our mission.  Cafe Nero, however, needs to be singled out as having been entirely useless in this respect. When it comes to something this serious, the company policies about "advertising" in cafe windows were surely made to be over ruled?

My absolute gut-wrenching hatred, however, is reserved for The Gap. Philip was beaten up outside the shop, and they have refused to put up any posters appealing for witnesses to the attack. I spoke to a woman in head office who was patronising and rude. I have subsequently been ear-bashing various people in the press office of the company, and suspect their hardline policies might be about to change.

I suppose this whole business has made me a little hard-line. I can't really understand why anyone given an opportunity to help, would, not just refuse, but go out of their way to be rude as part of the useless package!

A beigel shop owner on Piccadilly Circus told us we could put a poster in the window - which we did - but when we returned three minutes later, we discovered that he'd taken it down and put it in the bin! We fished it out shouting "shame on you!" 

One pub landlord refused to come out from behind a wall to speak to me in person. He kept sending his barmaid out to do his dirty work. I could hear him telling her to get rid of me, which struck me as either terribly grand or incredibly cowardly. What a turd. 

April 14th 1661, was Easter Sunday, and Pepys ducked into a church in Ludgate to hear a "lazy" sermon, delivered "like a Presbyterian." I assume that this is some kind of insult, but don't have a good enough knowledge of the various branches of Christianity to know, or care, why this would be.

Mr Barnwell, Lord Sandwich's steward, had arrived in town to see the coronation with "some of Sandwich's little children." Lady Jemima was something of a baby factory, but quite how many little children she had is not made clear! In any case, Pepys took them all for a drink and found them in good spirits. 

He went to his father's house, where Elizabeth was still living due to all the work being carried out at Seething Lane. There was obviously some kind of row. Perhaps Pepys said he'd stay the night with her before changing his mind. Maybe they argued and she sent him packing. In any case, Pepys stormed off in a huff, but, "she, poor wretch, followed me as far in the rain and dark as Fleet Bridge to fetch me back again, so I did, and lay with her tonight, which I have not done these eight or ten days before." Poor Elizabeth. Sounds like she was simply lonely.