My work continues...

I lie here now on the floor of my paltry hotel room in Pinner, a tray of bread and beans a few inches from my right hand, a combination spanner clutched in my left. My eyes are itchy and bloodshot from the hours that I have spent here staring at the machine which I have been constructing since I arrived. 

My host, an ugly man with greasy hair named Rupert, bothers me with knocks upon my door as I try to go about my business. I realise that he wishes to know what causes the strange metallic thumps that he hears in the night, emanating from my door. 

If I were to tell him, I fear he would run screaming in terror from his home, to know what horror will soon alight upon this hitherto peaceful enclave. 

I have few other words to say, other than that I am aware that the time is drawing short, and I must continue for my work must be complete before the day arrives.