Woah, Jack Campin, that's absolutely fascinating.
I found something similar in a skip about 20 years ago , piles of diaries and journals written by a bloke living alone, working as some sort of door-to-door salesman in 1960's ,terribly lonely and introspective, reading signs and omens into formations of swans on the River Trent and flocks of birds flying over. He used to frequent a coffee -bar , now gone, in Nottingham and just watch other people's lives. Having read all he'd written , I felt as though I'd intruded , and burnt every book on our fire to save anyone from laughing at him.
Feel rather the same about your man, although simultaneously acknowledging how marvellous it is to have such an insight into a life so very different from my own.You can almost see it as a black and white film can't you ?