Thursday 1.22 pm
'...and while I found there was much to enjoy about your novel, unfortunately I don't feel that we are the right publishers for you...'
We are sitting in Coffee Plant, a café on Portobello Road and Geoff is reading from his latest rejection letter.
'I'm sorry,' I say, my hand on his sleeve which is mapped with yellow stains charting his week's meals.
Behind us two sleek bodied women carrying yoga mats are talking about spelt bread. Next to them a man and a woman in Converse trainers discuss Step 3 in their Narcotics Anonymous programme. We are, after all, in West London.
Geoff scrunches up the letter and tosses it over to the bin but it misses and lands next to a stray soiled tissue.
'Cheer me up,' he says. 'What nonsense did you write about today?'
Geoff, along with everyone else I know, finds it funny that I work for a Health and Well-being website, for obvious reasons.
'Abundance mentality,' I reply, stifling a yawn. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to muster enthusiasm for my job and to distract myself during work hours I watch an inordinate number of YouTube clips. My present favourite is called 'Christian the lion' and shows a lion being reunited with his former owners who rescued him as a cub from Harrods pet department. I played it eight times this morning but the final time an advert box popped up - '15,000 Chinese women are looking for dates '- which spoilt it a bit.
'What's abundance mentality?' asks Geoff, staring out of the café window at a stump-footed pigeon pecking at a rain-soaked chip.
'It's where you think and act as if you already have whatever it is you desire. So if you want to be a successful author you have to act like one. It's a role play thing.' I follow Geoff's gaze and watch the pigeon upgrade to a rotten avocado. 'So which author are you going to be?'
Geoff shrugs.
'What about Jesus? The Bible's a huge seller.'
'I don't want to act like Jesus.'
'Yes, you do. It'll be fun. You can throw water-into-wine parties and heal the sick. You'll have to be crucified of course, which is a bit of a downer, but it's a small price to pay.'
'One fatal flaw,' says Geoff. 'Jesus didn't write the Bible.'
'Don't nit pick,' I say, scratching my left elbow and scanning my sleeve for signs of flaking. 'I'm trying to help you here.' I look over at Geoff's eyes which are ringed with purple from his nights driving taxis. 'Tell you what, I'll buy you lunch,' I say. 'You can have a Steak Bake. That's abundant.'
'What if I want a ham and cheese lattice?'
'Don't get greedy now,' I tell him, slipping from the stool. 'Greed apparently comes from a scarcity mentality.'
Outside, we head for Greggs. We're just passing the New Zealand honey shop when I hear a voice behind me.
'Hannah?'
I turn round. My immediate reaction is to hurl myself into the Manuka shop and hide behind the glistening display of £30's a pot honey. But it's too late.
'Wilson,' I say, embarrassment and shame flaring my face. 'What are you doing here?'...
More to follow next Friday...