Who stole Friday?

I arose this morning to glorious sunshine. Brixton lay before me and a brand new day was mine for the taking. Now it’s dark outside, someone’s removed the old sofa from outside my front door (my only means of identifying which flat was mine) and I have been verbally abused no less than three times by kindly neighbours irate at my efforts to fit my keys into their front doors. If only someone hadn’t stolen the house number last week.

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