I sat on the park bench two weeks ago, with the crusts of the stale loaf I’d taken from the kitchen – feeding it to the pigeons that hopped and pecked at my feet – hungry but nervous. She had come and sat next to me – smelling like overripe fruit, and began to talk about the weather. This is something I know a lot about, so we talked for 23 minutes, until she said she had to go and clean her flat. Perhaps it has some overripe fruit in it? It would explain the smell.

I’ve seen her every day at that bench for the last few weeks. She talks a lot, but its usually ok and I’ve only had to tell her she was being boring once. On Friday we went to see a film. It was about a man and a woman who hated each other but then got married. I didn’t think it made much sense, but she said it was very ‘romantic’. It had a parrot in it, so that was ok.

Tonight I’’m going to her flat for supper. I hope we have chicken. I know a lot about chickens. She still smells of overripe fruit though – maybe I’ll tell her later.