Things to do in an empty house

Getting very, very close to d-day now. All our stuff has gone into storage - thank Zeus for my lovely iBook, the internet and the radio (although my desire to take to Eamonn Holmes' face with a cheese grater is almost overwhelming). The high point of this morning so far has been bluetoothing my entire address book from my iBook to my phone. Technology is just so cool these days. My life, on the other hand, is clearly not.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who came out for a drink last weekend. Morning Bride were, as always, brilliant and it was great to bump into a couple of people I haven't seen in a while as well. Feel like the liver has taken a beating over the last couple of weeks with all the going away celebrations - I keep telling myself that for the next six months I'll be living the 'my body's a temple' lifestyle so what the hell, but the condition of said temple could be seriously compromised by departure time at this rate. (Yeah, yeah - temple isn't a word usually used to describe it, I know.) What the fuck, it's been way too much fun anyway. So happy to see everyone and will really miss you all. I'm still not even vaguely clear on what happened to JP, though - I know I've spoken to him since, but I just don't understand!! If you're reading, mate, I'm meeting up with Stew next week for a final farewell, so maybe you could come along to that and actually, you know, speak to me. I *believe* there has even been some suggestion that Stew might pay for dinner...

So the house is empty and I've been tucked up in my sleeping bag for the last couple of nights. Pleased to report that it's very snug indeed, which is good news considering London has been bloody cold for the last week or so.

My passport application is in, albeit later than expected because I cocked it up. No really. I managed to completely overlook the fact that I required a countersignatory until the morning of my appointment. As I am the only person tragic (or paranoid) enough to actually carry my passport number around with me, I had to reschedule and call on civil service star Sarah to come to my rescue. Which, of course, she did. She even rewarded my sea sponge-like organisational skills with this extremely groovy new compass.

Speaking of which, could everyone send luck and healing vibes Sarah's way. She's been training to run in the London marathon and has achieved super-human levels of abstinence from all the fun things in life since the start of the year. Now, with just a couple of weeks to go, she's tweaked some of her bits and is waiting to hear if she can run. She's worked really hard, so any spare good thoughts winging her way would be much deserved.

If Sarah makes it to the starting line, she will be running to raise funds for Crisis, a charity helping the homeless, and can be sponsored via this link. Come on, who wouldn't want to sponsor this girl. (Yes, that is a fountain in Trafalgar Square but I hasten to add that this photo was taken some time before the aforementioned marathon training regime commenced. She hasn't been in fountain-swimming condition for *months*.) I'll post an update as soon as there's news on those running bits, so get ready to sponsor.

I may not post often, but I sure do post long. The house is ridiculously cold right now but the real estate agents have called to say they will be bringing someone round to look at the place and I don't want it to be all warm and toasty when they get here. Nothing against any future occupants, you understand, this is all about making things difficult for the estate agent scum. That name again: David Daniels. Fear them, all you decent, intelligent renters, for they are to civilised human beings as Fosters is to actual beer. I know, I know - that's real big and clever, you say, freezing your toes off to inconvenience some random scum bag. Fuck you, it is big and clever and my tiny toes are warmed by the thought of even this pathetically small inconvenience I might cause them. Soon, I shall be heading out to watch the cricket anyway - may the Aussies stuff South Africa for many good reasons but mostly to irritate my barman Sean. If you didn't know me, you could start to think I'm bitter and twisted. Well, it makes me happy.

Passport should arrive Thursday and then it's off to Portsmouth for the ferry on Friday. Farewell local drinks at the Eddie tonight from about 7.30pm-ish. I know, it really is taking the piss, isn't it - how many going away drinks can two people legitimately have. The answer, clearly, is an *infinite number* of going away drinks. Frankly, I'm about to crack open a can of Red Stripe and have a going away drink with myself. My filthy, hobo-beer drinking appearance (Grrr's description of Red Stripe, not mine) should help further deter potential renters and I don't even have to go to any effort because it's what I look like anyway.

Next update before we leave for Portsmouth - 6 days to go. Woo hoo!