Idiot *

What the hell am I doing? I've just sent an e-mail to a Spiked writer, criticising her article. Why get into a debate with these people? I must be mad. It's just that, being an ex-journalist, I hate sloppy journalism. She writes in desperation looking for a candidate to take on Brown and gives a cursory mention to Michael Meacher and completely ignores the campaign by John McDonnell to seek the requisite nominations to get on the ballot paper. I don't necessarily have a view on McDonnell myself and wouldn't begin to tell Labour Party members what to do in an internal election. It's just either poor research, ignorance of her subject matter or deep sectarianism which has seen this oversight by this writer.

Elsewhere in Spiked this week, reprint of an interesting article from the Times by Spiked ex-editor Mick Hume on the daily spectator sport which has followed a personal tragedy.

On another issue entirely, why is an ambulance which is sitting outside my office (yes, I'm in the office on a Saturday - such commitment) flashing its lights while sitting stationery and while the driver is reading a magazine? Weird! Oh, wait, just remembered. It could have been here for the guy who I could hear coughing his guts up for about 20 minutes from 50 yards away earlier in the day. Quite disgusting

*Lisa Marie Presley

Moving *

And so it came to pass that I moved house this week - but not without incident. The incidents in question are all rather tedious, but can I just say ... estate agents really can be a bunch of cunts! As I was taking the last of my stuff out of Brockley, new tenant was moving his stuff in and taking delivery of a "table and chairs" as he put it to me on arriving. As he also said last week when viewing the flat, it wasn't he himself who was moving in but "a couple of lads" who were "coming over" to work at the same building firm. Strange then that I think I counted three new single beds being brought in by the people delivering the "table and chairs" which will go along with the double and single beds which come with the flat. Also strange was the shame/embarrassment on his face when could see me wondering what the fuck was going on. Anyway, I'm sure that the 5 or 6 Polish builders who are now living in the flat were really like it - even if it does get rather crowded.

So, on to new gaff - back to my spiritual home of SE14. Arriving just as I was unloading the last car-load of my gear was - with new hair-do, trousers and rubber gloves (no smutty remarks, YP) - JJ. She then completely took over - thank fuck, cos otherwise I would have simply slumped on a chair, cried, slept and done nothing to get things sorted. The upshot of her amazing work is that I have a fully functioning and spotless kitchen and, thanks to her advice/suggestions/orders *(delete as appropriate) I also now know where my computer, stereo, TV and other stuff will be going. Then we had to stop doing housey stuff as drink had to be drunk and food had to be eaten. I can heartily recommend the Tas chain of Turkish restaurants. As I returned home alone (after popping in to see the boy who, along with his mate, took the piss out of me for the whole time I was there - fully deserved, btw) I sat with book and then paused to send txt to JJ. Just then, visitor appears from under the front door and scurries away again as I get up to throw something at it. A look at the Robert Dyas website gives me idea to visit the shop later and purchase a rat/mouse/pest repellent, which plugs in and sends out high-pitched sound to keep the blighters away. Anyone know if these things work?

*Supergrass

Gut Feeling

Watch it til the end - great last sentence.

I'm Coming Down *

My head is buzzing with no-roof-over-my-head fears. That would be because I was supposed to move last Tuesday - it didn't happen. I was then supposed to move last Thursday - it didn't happen. I was then supposed to move on Saturday - didn't happen. I then gave up on that place and looked elsewhere - found a place and agreed with estate agent that I would move today. It didn't happen. JJ has now been down twice to help me move and taken one day off work. I've taken one day off and will be off tomorrow. If I don't move tomorrow, more annual leave will be taken. It's really, really annoying. I am so glad that JJ is very tolerant of my moaning about it.

Anyway, yesterday we had a lovely day walking on Hampstead Heath and then going to the Freemason's Arms (can't be bothered linking here btw). We then had a mighty fine evening listening to some old vinyl - during which I decided (after a little prompt from JJ) that my vinyl collection is absolute rubbish. I need some Only Ones, Television, Blondie, Orange Juice, Devo and lots more other stuff on vinyl. We also had a lovely dinner, thanks to JJ's wonderful culinary skills. Today was disappointment in estate agent, followed by driving all over Covent Garden looking for parking space, followed by walk in the pissing rain. We then plonked ourselves down in the rather strange but nice Porterhouse pub and had some gorgeous beer, wine and very filling burgers.

Back to my house things. I think I'm heading back to SE14 tomorrow, my year in SE4 is at an end. My present flat is rather nice, but it is rather pricey too. It is also not such a good location when making my way home late at night as steep hill has to be overcome. I was SE14 for 16 years before moving out of my old house and I feel I'm going back to my manor. And that it's just five minutes from the boy makes it all the more attractive. I may still pop up to the upper park on Telegraph Hill on occasions over the summer cos you can't beat those views. I may even pop up to Skeehan's on occasions for the pub quiz on a Tuesday night. But, really, I'm desperate to say goodbye Brockley and hello again to New Cross - the best place on the planet, bar none!

And some final words on other things before I go - how thick are the Scottish electorate that about 100,000 of them cannot fill in their fucking ballot papers properly? And how deserved was that Premiership title for Manure - did they do anything other than attack teams this season? And how embarrassingly bad were Celtic against the forces of darkness on Saturday?

* Primal Scream