A couple of pints in the Nellie Dean in Dean Street, where the beautifully voluptuous Lucy keeps the candles lit and the fires burning and the innumerable plants & flowers watered, and you never know she might even pull you a pint, before heading down the road, past Quo Vadis above which Karl Marx used to live. Sad to see they have repainted their front so the word MARX has been removed—temporarily one hopes. How Soho has changed in the last 5 or 6 years. Past the old Intrepid Fox (now Byron at the Intrepid Fox), and the new building on the right of Peter Street which replaces the old models flats where I used to go to see my Siberian Cleopatra Olga. To the Tisbury Court peep show—the two girls peer through the letterbox and seem irritated that I am making no effort to wank. As if I am wasting their time! I do not find these places at all arousing, but I love them because they are such a charming remnant of old school Soho. Old men in raincoats Soho. They are aesthetically very pleasing. To Windmill Street then past the Red Lion where Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels chaired the second congress of the Communist League, now a Be@One (“workers of the world be at one”?). Opposite is a big hole in the ground where once was the models flats where I used to see Spanish Ana Maria who came so close to giving me a lift home with her. Down to Shaftesbury Avenue, always so redolent of Ernest Dowson to me, and Piccadilly Circus, from where I catch my No.38 back home.