Soho Solo.

Friends laughing that a man my age wandering around a freezing cold Soho after dark was not a good look. Third time in a month for different clients, weirdly. No crew, no assistant, no need to feed or socialise. Having horrible flashbacks to the state of us constantly bounding round here decades ago. A roll of 35mm colour film will keep me out of some legendary pubs. I’m more than OK dining alone but vertical street food will stop me getting too comfy and keep me moving.

The temperature drops. Monday jam night in Ronnie Scott’s now seems like a plan. £10 in is a deal. Seated with two wasted Japanese dudes, one of them in Elvis shades. They both look incredible. I imagine what their day’s been like. A negroni now seems polite. Two maximum. The house band and various guests are incredible. Gives me a boost for another hour to head out into the cold, finish the roll, re-enter the pod and set my alarm.