And that was nothing like a cool breeze

but the end was far better than I anticipated.

I went to visit my problematic friend.

All the way there it felt wrong; me coming in with a few cheap clean clothes from Primark, getting him to shower before making him put them on, rubber gloves and dustbin liners for the dirty washing, then the laundrette, fixing the laptop, food, drink and a sensible conversation about the future; all worryingly worthy. Control, be it mine or someone else's, makes me uncomfortable. Mine is the philosophy of the spoilt chaot: You don't have to do what I like, as long as I can do what I like. I appreciate people who are good at sorting things out and making things work, but I'll never be one of them, and even the attempt gives me this screaming sense of hooty bustle.

Traipsed across to west London, which is all bloody appalling until you get to Richmond, Kew and Twickenham, or Barnes and Putney. But Earls Court, Fulham, Shepherd's Bush... they've lost any charm they ever had and it's quite a journey. I arrived, rang on the door bell and phoned many times, secure in the knowledge that he was in there stoically ignoring me.

Getting home, I tried to contact the local mental crisis emergency team. It took me hours, over 10 separate phone numbers and a throbbing headache to get them to tell me I needed to speak to his GP. I phoned him late afternoon; How he apologised! But we both knew he just couldn't be arsed to get up and answer his door.'I thought that anyone calling had to be trouble,' he said. He was right. To stop me nagging, he allowed me to contact his GP, so I have sent an email outlining the concerns, and quoting the Assessment and Brief Treatment Team who said that the doctor could refer my friend to them. After that, it is time to wait and see. It even looks as though the laptop is working again - my suspicion is that it was fine all along. So I'll keep an eye over the next few weeks, see how he is on his birthday. I'll probably chuck a few pints down his neck this summer, just make sure he isn't pining for Mark and company.

We only need to revisit this if things get desperate beyond the doctor's scope and social services' willingness to help. Even not getting to clean up has its positives. If a home assessment transpires, it's important they understand what the fuss is about.

Lying here with an excellent whisky, soon I'll go to bed. But first a toast:
To Friends X

A night of documentaries

Interesting tales about the recovery of HMS Erebus, and a recounting of Franklin's disastrous expedition to the arctic. The Erebus was found 11 metres under the water, not hard to reach in terms of distance. You'd probably need the ultimate dry suit of course, but what a thing to explore! The documentary didn't focus much on the lead poisoning that seems to have contributed to the tragedy, but I was intrigued to hear about the accuracy of Inuit oral tradition on the subject. It seems to have been ignored because Victorian England was mortified by the suggestion of their heroes succumbing to cannibalism. I feel for poor Captain Crozier, and wonder if Franklin was all that. Crozier seems to have had his doubts.

This was followed by 'A Very British Brothel,' which was truly fascinating, with its cups of tea and take-outs. It's long struck me that prostitution needs to be made safe; I never understand those who want to close down sex work saying that it demeans women. There are plenty of male prostitutes, does it demean them? Yes, there is a long tradition of specifically gender-slanted abuse inherent in our society, but I am not convinced the way to empower sex workers is to stop them making a living. Our society equates money with agency, so it's surely useful to enable sex workers to make money in safety; making it legal and bringing about the entire industry's involvment in curbing drug abuse, disease, and trafficking, can only be constructive.

Channel 4: I had forgotten how good it can be.