So I’m walking down the road having just photographed this particularly scuzzy building and i hear a voice in a doorway calling out “You looking for the knocking shop mate?” so i look into the doorway and there’s this big bloke walking out on to the street and he continues “cos it’s just down there just past the bins, ere, you going to take pictures of the clients as they come out? Could be a nice little earner” so I tell him I might just go home and pick up a fishing stool so i can be a bit more comfy while I wait and he says “Yeah my mate lives just across the road from them on the top floor and he says you wouldn’t believe what goes on in there, the Police know and everything and they’ve got a proper website. What’s it called?” he says to the other guy now coming out into the sunshine but the other guy can’t remember and i suggest knocking on the door and asking them if they need publicity shots and so it goes on. I had to take their picture didn’t I?

Another day like the South of France. Halloween too. Hottest since records began apparently.

Stones of the day include a wounded heart and a hamburger. Ah the poetry…