Wow, today is really dragging. I’ve got a ton of stuff to do in the next 6 weeks but it’s a bit of a flipping punch up the numbers job, so I’m starting to look at the clock every 10 minutes. Yawnsville.

Meanwhile the search for a new flatmate to replace No1 steps up a gear – we are about to actually advertise. This is the fun bit, or it would be if FM2 was going to be about – never mind – means I get to to interview the tide of human scum that will shortly be lapping up against our front door begging admittance. Which leaves me free to accept a) the prettiest one regardless of clear mental deficiencies b) some kind of vegetable who’s personality I can mould to my freakish purpose without noticeable effort c) the one who offers me money.

Actually I just hope we can find someone who isn’t a total freak, ie doesn’t fill the flat with the bitter aroma of tension and barely contained violence and/or some sort of druggie and/or washing up nazi.. Can always get rid of them I suppose – could be tricky what with our highly original approach to contracts and legal niceties. But all that is yet to come – here’s hoping for the best.

Crap – I just cannot stop yawning. I’m sitting in my ex-cube (my cube has been deconstructed in the interests of cramming more people in, now a sort of open plan rectangle) and my head is spinning with tedium . . only 65 . . . mins to go . . . gotta . . . stay . . . . .awa . . . z z z z z z z z z

Well I haven't written this blog for a week because - nothinh has happened. Haven't been out anywhere, haven't spoken to anyone - haven't done anything except slump in front of the telly watching out glorious coalition forces kick the shit out of a bunch of foreigners. Feel depressed, and who can blame me. The highlight of my week was buying a rug at IKEA on Saturday. The hotdogs at IKEA are incredible. They taste of absolutely nothing, but they are very cheap, and strangely satisfying.

Ack – somehow I managed to spend £150 on books, DVDs, music and a copy of Sim City 4 yesterday. Easy come, easy go. Still I saved money by spending Saturday alone at home gazing myopically into the fridge, nursing an emperor sized hangover and watching a couple of cheese eating surrender monkey movies on the teev – La Fille Sur Le Pont and Mouchette. Both really good but LFSLP is funny and sweet whereas Mouchette is an hour and 20 of unremitting misery. I’m not saying it’s not a very well observed and fascinating piece of work, but laughs? Non. Still that’s Bresson for you.

The reason for the hangover (and the fridge gazing) is that my friends (giving a good impression of deep sea trawlers closing in on school of Atlantic cod) all trolled up on Friday night and proceeded to eat everything in the house. We were 8 in total and after they’d already had Greek hors d’oeuvres, followed by king prawns wrapped in squid with tomatos and then a venison and pigeon casserole with chick peas, artichoke and pomegranite (served with three types of focaccia) and then a huge platter of apples and fruit loaf you’d think that might be enough (also consumed by this point 11 bottles of wine & 1 bottle of gin). But No-o-o. Somehow we then managed to eat 2.5 lbs of goats cheese. And drink a whole lot more booze. Still was a very funny evening, at some point of which I swore that I would go for colonic irrigation. By some lucky stroke though everyone was too pissed to notice – imagine that.

Dinner with LROS was one of our more successful outings I think. She is tired but not as much as normal. Sometimes I think she has really forgotten how to get the fun in. It’s odd. She can be really difficult sometimes and other times seems completely vulnerable and sweet. Can never decide if I fancy her or not. Actually I know I do, but can never persuade myself that going out with her would be worth the head-shrinkage that would indupitably go with the territory. Plus of course she doesn't fancy me. Anyway in an attempt to make up for having cancelled our last 2 outings I insisted on paying for this one. So naturally the bill came to nearly £80 but so what it’s only money and it was a very nice place – money well spent IMHO.

Anyway the important thing is that she is going to play ball with regard to The Lovely Woman and Hari and finds the whole scenario as amusing as I do. Unfortunately we may have to wait some time for this to be set up as The Lovely Woman lives far, far away and is dead poor. Just one of those people that despite their best efforts never have 2 cents to rub together. But she is lovely. And I hardly had to bring it up at all. I just mentioned I’d heard and she was straight in and guessed who’d told me. You never know – this might actually work as opposed to just being the biggest finger burner of all time ;-)

Bloody trains. Didn’t make it into work at all yesterday as the overhead lines were down. What a royal pain. As if it wasn’t bad enough having to travel to work with the scum of the earth every day I have now been booted into touch altogether and told I can’t go to work at all. If I lived somewhere else I could have a car and then be as environmentally and socially unfriendly as I liked – driving to work in my little metal personal space cube. Sounds pretty good actually.

Cooking dinner tonight and remembered that Shazzer eats absolutely nothing that I’m cooking. Don’t know what to do – having a crisis about it. As far as I can see the only thing she can eat is plain chicken breasts. Oh well, so be it . . .

Knackered now – it’s hard word teaching people! The cause of all this exhaustion is that Rachel started work today and I have been explaining stuff all day, and still have barely scratched the surface. It’s weird – you don’t know just how much there is to know about something until you have to start explaining it, and then the problem is where to even start.

I think I’m falling apart physically – ears bunged up, stiff legs, sore nipple – the list just goes on and on. Still having dinner with LROS this evening. Haven’t decided where to go, but better be somewhere quiet – don’t want to miss any of the blow by blow account I fully intend to extract from her ;-)

Wooo – so it’s finally goodbye from medieval land. Yes we finally got our electricity back at 11pm last night . Mind you there is now a colossal hole in the pavement right outside the front door, but at least now we’ll be able to find the iodine and bandages after we’ve fallen into it.

We think it’s possible the outage was caused by backed up kebab slurry, which really doesn’t bear thinking about – lucky we’re 4 storeys away so the only smell we ever get from them comes from the ventilation chimney, which if the wind is right gives off a charming aroma of stale fat.

I seem to have got my numbers wrong and have invited too many people round for dinner on Friday – 8 of them in fact. Not a problem except that I only have 6 plates and (more worryingly) 6 chairs. Perhaps someone can sit on a colossal pile of old telephone books and I’ll perch on the edge of the work surface. Haven’t got a clue what to cook yet either. Unfortunately Shazzer, as I recall, only eats chicken without spices which I don’t think I can bring myself to prepare – nothing wrong with a nice roast chicken but it’s not going to get my name in lights on the London Dinner Party scene. Compromise – I’ll cook something chicken like aka guinea fowl or partridge or whatever. But what about the rest of it? I seem to be completely out of inspiration.

Suggestions to the usual address please . . .

Something of an excessive weekend AGAIN – but never mind. Actually (as is the way of things) by the time I got to Amber I’d cheered up completely. Ronnie was completely unconcerned about my sliding off, although, in the end Squeeky never turned up anyway!! That Dr Heartbreak is crap. Somehow this didn’t seem to piss me off. Pippa & Keith, Shazzer & Peach, Hari as well. And someone else (well Dr Heartbreak of course) - was fun. Got home – had a few ales – passed out.

Saturday saw myself, Ronnie & Numinor at the Finsbury park bowling alley. We were our usual competent selves. Actually we weren’t that bad, although we did start to go down hill after we instituted the rule that any strike had to be accompanied by a down in one shot of vodka. Ugh. Picked up Flatmate1 and headed out to the Gastropub in Primrose Hill. Bizarrely we all ordered steaks – weird. Anyway we met Phil the Greek and Abigail there and after a few more light ales we all (xcepting Flatmate1 whose back is still recovering) headed off to Cecil Sharpe House and OH MY GOD – the madness. Actually it was a lot of fun but it would have been more fun if a) We’d been less pissed b) Everyone else wasn’t so sober and taking it all PRETTY SERIOUSLY. I can definitely remember thinking at some point that if this woman span me round one more time I was gonna yak on her big swirly skirt.

But we survived and lived to tell the tale – I think Abigail was pleased that we all had a good time – it is kind of her bag. I don’t think we really fitted in though. I mean we are sufficiently middle class – just the wrong age. Most people were either about 40-60 or about 16 – obvs people’s kids who’d been bribed into going. Or possibly they quite like going. I imagine if you’ve always gone you’d be pretty good so it’d be an overall less painful experience. But enough of that – we made it to the late bar in Kentish town (can NEVER remember it’s name), though it’s pretty fair to say that by this time no-one really needed any more to drink. Then home - a couple of nightcaps and shut down.

Sunday I was supposed to go to the cinema with Mac but, so not happening as couldn’t get out of bed. Instead went to Manoli’s with Ronnie (and had the Greek Style Fry Up : grilled holoumi, lountza., tomatoes, eggs, chips + toast and tea. Numinor had already gone to the Rugby so just the two of us as Flatmate1 was working and 2 is in Prague (speaking of which I got a call from 2’s bf on Friday night. He’d managed to lose her – didn’t have her number and was lost somewhere in Prague. Doy. Luckily I was able to resolve the issue). So naturally we slumped on the sofa and watched Flashdance. What a film. I can’t believe it’s 20 years old! Basically nothing happens, the plot is terrible, it consists entirely of clichés, but it’s just wonderful. It defined the 1980s really I was forcibly reminded of the Emperor sized crush I had on Jennifer Beals at the time ;-) and understandably so.

After Ronnie headed off myself and Flatmate1 sat around and I was just getting ready to go off for dinner with LROS when - phut – all the lights went out. And stayed out. In the end I cancelled dinner as it hardly seemed fair to leave FM1 sitting in alone with only a candle for company – but have re-arranged for Thursday. Anyway about 7.30 the emergency elctrician dude turned up, twiddled some knobs and announced that the problem was under the street, and it would have to be dug up. Well when I left for work this morning there was no sign of the road being dug up and likewise no sign of any of those naughty electrons scampering along the wires :-( . All in all it was a fun evening – we played cards by candlelight and listened to classical music on FM1’s battery radio. We could have almost been in a Vermeer painting. However – once was enough – having to remember to take a candle with you every time you went to the loo was starting to get stale already. Plus the phone is out as it’s some sort of major subterranean disaster & the freezer defrosting of course, plus no hot water or heating! (the boiler is gas but won’t work without electricity). The cooker still works though, so at least we can cook all the defrosted food.

Watch this space for more medieval anticry during the week

Oh - in case anyone was wondering about the lack of follow on from yesterday - I decided in the end that Fostorosis was more important than being at home to meet & greet Ronnie. She'd do the same in my position. However it all seems like a bit of a lost cause now - nothing like a dose of the head-pox to remove one's va-va-voom.

What a thoroughly boring day. Absolutely don’t feel like going out this evening – but it has to be done I suppose. Actually it doesn’t really. I should just stay in and recuperate – not doing myself any favours by going out esp as lousy friends couldn’t even be bothered to respond to my pleas for attention on account of feeling ill :-( . Why should I favour them with my boundless good nature and energizing conversation when I could be tucked up at home instead?

Answers to the usual address please.

Come to think of it if I feel this grumpy now, by the time I get there I’ll be spitting blood, so an unpleasant evening is pretty much guaranteed for everyone :-) .

Uggh – definitely not feeling myself these last few days – head feels blocked up and generally a bit ‘planet elsewhere’. Also gone deaf in both ears now.

In fact am beginning to feel a bit ambivalent about everything really. Which is bad. Tomorrow night is starting to look complicated. Am supposed to be meeting Ronnie and Numinor at home but they’re not there till 9.30. Meanwhile the kids will be grooving away at Amber. Wouldn’t normally be a problem, after all I can see the kids any time but I have it on good authority that Squeeky might be making an appearance . . .

Bit of a dilemma – after all haven’t seen Ronnie since before Xmas and she is kinda paying us a courtesy visit. Would it be rude to sod off out with someone else? Yes. Will probably leave it till the last minute tomorrow to decide. Actually that’s the best idea – leave everyone hanging on just to maximise my own chances of, well, whatever it is I’m trying to maximise. Terrific temper that Ronnie sometimes.

You might have guessed that while I don’t believe in horoscopes, ghosts, ESP, previous lives or predestination I also don’t believe there’s any point in tempting fate. I suppose it’s probably safe to reveal that I’ll most likely give my facial hair a bit of a treatment this evening ;-)

What do people do with all the junk they accumulate – I seem to have an inexhaustible supply of the stuff? Although my flat is fairly roomy there is a limit to how much stuff can be stored communally, and frankly I’m running out of room in the bedroom. I mean 200 videos & DVDs, 250 CDs, 34 (yes 34) T-shirts, 2 desks, a cupboard, a chest of drawers, 2 computers and (here’s the real killer) ~ 1,300 books!! I’ve had to acquire a new book every 9 days since birth to account for that many.

The problem is that old pairs of pants and even crappy films can be thrown out or given away but books – definitely not. I guess I should ramp up my bookcrossing activities – try and make a bit of space before I kill myself. This sudden urge to organize my life along lines of Spartan simplicity has been precipitated by waking up horribly late this morning (about 8am) and on leaping out of bed turned my ankle over on my hiking boots which were hiding under a pile of clean laundry. Cue cursing, stumbling around, general mayhem, and slamming out of the house at about 8.25 with a face like thunder. Not the calming start to the morning so beloved of our advertisers where some repellent perk-meister uber-babe calmy chews her way through a bowl of Hifibrewheatycrunchä horror food before skipping out of the house (generally filmed from a Kerr-azzy angle (for the technically minded this is called a Dutch Tilt)) with a spring in her step and joy in her heart – having already WASHED UP her bowl. Or at least put it in the machine.

I know there are people who don’t begrudge every spare moment before work as one that could have been more profitably spent pushing up zeds, but I’ve never met any. It probably helps if you have kids – you have to get up at 5.15am anyway so opiatic thoughts of slumbering on till early afternoon are redundant anyway.

Wow – today is really hacking me off – endless IT niggles, nothing you can really pin down – just a strange feeling that any minute now something somewhere is going to go seriously wrong. Or more likely somebody somewhere up in the stratosphere is going to write a shirty memo about something and shove their God sized SVP flavoured fork into the spokes . . . paranoia . . . it sucks.

Just mailed LROS to see if she wants to go for dinner sometime soon. Fairly neutral – I have been meaning to get in touch for ages – feel bad because I missed her birthday in December. It’s got nothing to do with Lovely Woman. I won’t even bring it up.

Today’s soundtrack : T.A.T.U. Chemical Brothers, Kate Bush, Trini Lopez.

Aaargh – how annoying. Should have been at Mirabelle this evening for an all expenses paid blow out courtesy of my noble employers. Still – can’t be helped. Will just have to console myself with the thought of all those calories I’m not eating and gorge myself on peanut butter and pickle sandwiches instead. It’s not the same though.

Besides – really shouldn’t be going out anywhere this week as need to be concentrating on work + sleep. After all Ronnie and Numinor are visiting at the weekend, which will undoubtedly require some high level drinking and larking about. And before that I need to get everything shipshape – the flat is currently looking a wee bit like someone kicked it over the side of a cliff. Doesn’t help that the hallway is continually full of Mr Y’s bloody builders tramping dust up and down the stairs and kicking over cups of tea. This morning I had to climb over a pile of tarpaulins and squeeze past one of his grumpy gnomes just to get out.

Hmmm - Monday afternoon, feeling a tad bilious – not to say dispeptic. Not surprising really considering my somewhat hectic weekend. Actually came home very early on Friday and went to bed at a reasonable hour for once, but that was the only quiet bit.

Went to Travis Perkins on Saturday ‘Where the Trade Shop’ and spent 20 minutes hanging out with geezers ferreting through the paint tins and trying to look like a proper bloke instead of an obvious DIYer. Not helped by being accompanied by Flatmate2 who looks beautiful (if a tad spaced) wherever she goes. No way could she pass for a plumbers mate . . . unlike Ronnie who seemed to fill the role admirably. Spent the afternoon painting the living room while Flatmate1 retired hurt due to a surfeit of elderly parsnips. Got to about 5.30 and gave up – went out to get pissed.

Actually turned into a bit of a spectacular – definitely what Shazzer would refer to as a £100 night. Tapas Bar, Kentish Pie (some sort of band actually) at the Spitz and then finally a nightclub in Mayfair somewhere. We started off with myself and Flatmate1, Dr Heartbreak, teej, Hari, La Caple and a couple of random Kiwis and we all made it to the end except the Antipodeans.

The club was fairly cheesy really and I bumped into Ant from Dial-a-Dog – too random. I think I even got the bus home in the end. Can’t remember much after jumping from one painted square to the other on the dance floor with Flatmate2.

Sunday - did not get up early but – blessed surprise – Flatmate2 had risen from her sick bed and practically finished the painting. Fully recovered – certainly enough to give me a bollocking for messing up her paintbrushes and waking her up at 4am. Honestly – some people. Felt guilty so I cooked a leg of pork as a peace offering and watched The Green Mile whilst fortifying myself with G&Ts and a selection of yummy cigarette treats. But the main gossip of the previous evening – apart from Teej continually nicking cigs off me despite being ‘an ex smoker’ – was that Hari tells me that Lovely Woman has split up with her girlfriend! This puts Hari in a bit of a dilema – should she go for it? Or not? And if yes – how?? Many questions but we have no answers. Perhaps I should call LROS and stick my oar in anyway. Probably a very bad idea but – hey – never stopped me before. Actually I think I might just leave it all well alone. Sense Withnall!