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6:00 AM: I am devastatingly
heartbroken. My life is in ruins. There’s no point in living any
more. But I’m also incredibly hungry. Got Skirt out of bed to
serve my breakfast. It was
Supreme-of-Synthetic-Wild-Salmon-in-a-Ginger-Soufflé-with-Colouring-Preservatives-Plus-Basil-and-Oregano
- surprisingly it almost tasted like real food. I demanded
another three portions.
11:59 PM: I was in mourning all day
for my lost happiness. Apart from eating and sleeping I did
nothing. Due to my insatiable hunger I had eight meals at home
and a huge plate of fresh haggis with Old-Grey-Fur. It’s odd how
sadness makes you hungry - the sadness muscles must be located
in the stomach.
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