The usual gorgeous slice of pizza from the station on my arrival, and a roll to have later. Very pretty new blonde barmaid but desperately thin. If she gained another 5 stone in weight she’d be sensational. Still, still, still, I have the feeling I could even now bring Munich to some kind of life—if I tried to do something with one of the Schillerstraße girls. In my first Munich golden age I had great experiences because I was prepared to splash the cash. I never do in Munich anymore; I still wonder if—expensive as it might be, as much money as it might require—if there is SOME fly I could awake from the amber. It would be one of the small places. Not Atlantic City or Tiffany. They are too regulated and boring. The small places up the road are a little bit more “wild west” as it were. I’m talking myself into returning to Munich but I’ve ruled out any more long train journeys for a long while; just make do with Brussels only in 2017 for a long time, to save money. 2017 is going to be a year for finally TACKLING my debts. Not just keep hoping by some miracle they will come down by themselves, but actually doing something and making sacrifices to make sure it happens. I’ve already started, but it will be a while before the improvements really come through in the figures. “Stop drinking!” “Stop looking at pussy!” I hear my beloved ex-wife saying, bless her. What a truly wonderful person she quite often can be. I don’t know if it is my imagination but the Dorint Zipfer seems a fraction colder than usual.