You certainly see some busty girls at Victoria Coach Station two of whom got on my coach to Brussels

You certainly see some busty girls at Victoria Coach Station, two of whom got on my coach to Brussels—the blonde ponytail the pick of them, huge bosoms in tight grey flecked top and light blue jeans. She left us at Gent, sadly. Also leaving at Gent a black-haired girl in tight black top, who stood beside our coach for a while before we left. The journey was actually a lot less painful than last time—we left on time at 9am, which helps, rather than the 2½ hour delay of last time. I was in my hotel by 438pm. Couple of cans of Jupiler then down to Ciné Paris, two awful films again I’m afraid, but I planned to come back again later. They always seem better last thing at night when I’ve got nowhere else left to go. One beer in Café Jimmy watching the Pelican girls outside, all Bulgarians there I expect, but no Beatrice for a change. No one of any note, or on the walk to Fifth Avenue. Fifth Avenue was poor as always, but oh joy, then Inna arrived! Finally I did something with Inna, but, sadly, I have absolutely no memory of it, as I was so drunk by this stage. But thank god I have finally scratched the itch, lanced that boil, broken that ice.
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