Persecution

O SHIT. TWO OFFICIALS FROM THE COUNCIL came round and refused to enter my lair!

Fair enough it is full of rubbish bags that I'm not sure whether or not I accidentally threw my passport into.

I don't know what I did when why wherefore or what to which whatever this that or another thing. Y'know?

To cut a long story short they asked whether I was on drugs and that one confused me I said what psychiatric drugs or street drugs?

We had this conversation on the street because I loudly said my Lovely Charming Best Freind Wankers Who Share This Building Would only earwig on us.

So random dog walkers listened in instead. About yes I'm on methadone no I'm not on heroin I don't care what they know, I put heroin and methadone on the original application form so it's no secret. O yeah and my drink has gone DOWN to 4.5 to 4.7 units a day which equals 33 units a week tops which is just one can over the government's recommended limit. I've switched to strawberry (4.5% vol) and cherry (4.7% vol) flavour cider, two half litre cans a day. See I did it! Cut my drinking down by a third in one go.

Anyway they put me on a real downer saying I'm getting some Vulnerable Adult person after me for not being able to take care of myself. Me my room and my life are now in equal chaos.

I told them I wasn't sleeping at all. I had all of 5 minutes sleep last night. I went to "bed" (on the floor as per usual) for half an hour but my brain was lit up so I just watched inner television, felt irritated then got up.

I felt physically exhausted and nauseated and that was before those nauseating people made it all worse. They were talking to me like I was a 3 year old.

Everyone treats me like I'm a nutter these days. Even that psychiatrist, who's the best shrink I've ever had, judging on impressions, was visibly shocked the first time he saw me when I was "ill" rather than just self-medicating depression on heroin (the state I was in for over five years).

Anyway I'm not hearing voices AT AlL so I can't be mad.

I'm so tired I really want to sleep. I hate sleeping it reminds me of being ill, it makes me think of dying and sleeping is what I do when I'm depressed. The more I sleep the more I'm likely to be depressed and I've already decided if I do get that label Bxxxxxxr stuck on me I'm putting myself to a quick and violent end.

I feel so sad writing that, like my life is a total waste and I regret ever having been born. It would have been so much better if I'd never been born all I have ever done is hurt and disappiont.

Well I'm going to go now. And probably not sleep. I've had enough I've really had enough I wish I could press a button and disappear.

O yeah that's another good thing about being off heroin. It means if I push a quarter ounce straight into my femoral I should never wake up ever again.


1147 Just smashed a bottle open on my cooker the fucking glass is too blunt even to cut my skin open just rubbishy paper cuts can't even do self harm i've had enough i want to sleep i want to sleep i want to sleep fuck this i want to sleep i want to sleep i'm not hearing voices i am perfectly sane i just need to sleep i have no money i blew every penny on dvds i have an entire armchair full now i want to sleep i want to fucking sleep that is all i want to sleep sleep sleep

Nearly Normal...!

... WELL I SHALL BE nearly normal, fairly soon.

The landlord's kindly henchman came by this morning. He mentioned there's still a problem with dirty floors. I pointed out that when you clear as much as I've cleared, clean floors are the last priority. They inevitably get scattered with residue of everything, so Cosmetic Cleaning, I'm afraid, has to wait till last.

I've thrown out ~ literally ~ at least 20 black sacks full of rubbish.

There's still a lot of tidying to do. My clothes need sorting. The 50% or more that don't even fit are due for the hospice shop. Those that are too torn or cigarette-burned to sell on get recycled, so it's all good.

Plus I have a leaning tower of pizza of paperbacks also yearning to be chucked out ~ hopefully sold on at a good £1 each. If only I could find a decent bookshop that takes in second hand books. In my area the second hand book market is a cartel operated by charity shops
who demand all donations FREE. Charity begins at home, MY home. They're getting my clothes free of charge. For my dearly beloved books, I'm afraid, I require a little bit of HARD CASH!

Now I must ping because it's nearly midnight and I wanted to post something on Tuesday.

The real news is in my next post, due in an hour or so ~ HOT NEWS! ~ SIT TIGHT!!

Illustrated: lovely pine floor boards. No mine are nowhere near as clear or as clean as that. And won't be until I move out and some less scruffy bastard moves in!

Clearer

THE MAIN AREA OF MY HOUSE is beginning to approach normality. A cluttered normality with an Everest Heap of clothes in the middle, books to one side all higgledypiggledy because there's too many to stack up... there's still a week's worth of cleaning and clearing to go.

It doesn't quite look like the photo, but it will do. When I win the lottery and move.

If you go away

I'M STILL clearing up. I'm hoping to get the worst of it done by tonight, then I have one clear room. Not completely perfect, but within the bounds of "normality"... At last!

I've thrown away one black bag full of empty sin bins, and I'll have another black sack full of full ones for the exchange! I'm so looking forward to turning up as Junkie of the Year. Not.

DUSTY SPRINGFIELD: IF YOU GO AWAY
This tune just came on tv. I like:~

Toothpaste stains

I GOT UP AT 4:30 this morning. I feel like I could do with a year's more sleep but there you go. After smoking lots of cigarettes, trotting down the shop for smoked mackerel, Hovis bread and 2 litres of cyder (I'm cutting down) plus my tropical fruit juice (supposedly it's as good for you as eating veg, but I find that hard to believe)... after all this I scurried back home and wasted an hour watching BBC's early morning news and rubbish. The guy presenting used to be ITN's royal correspondent but I can't remember his name. Nick something. Being royal correspondent meant tilting your head slightly and inflecting the voice all sentimental-like whenever mentioning the Queen Mother. I was never convinced the Queen Mum was quite as kindly as portrayed. For one thing HM the Queen appeared, from the vast distance I view her, to be completely under her thumb. Since her Mum's death she seems to have become much more of her own woman. Her fashion sense appears to have improved immensely. The Queen is the funkiest-dressing old woman alive. With the exception of Rosie, the Trance granny who made luminous laurel crowns. I met her at the Warp club (Rosie, not the Queen) under an enormous railway arch round the corner from the London Dungeon, but I had seen her picture in the music press. She was famous for her octogenarian psychedelic ways.

There is a bevy of sparrows down my road. They live in a hedge and chirp their tuneless little heads off every morning. Cheep! Chirp! Twit! Twat! Twitter!! They say. My nightingale, who used to live in the nearest tree to our house is still on migration in West Africa. He or she won't be back until the spring. I know it was a nightingale because I matched the bird by appearance and song. The song was amazing, it tweetled and twittered all night like an LSD canary. I kept my window open especially. O man those sparrows are chirruping LOUD this morning. Sparrows all but disappeared from London about 15 years ago. They used to hang out in flocks along with the pigeons in parks. Even today, though you see them more, they're rare.

HEROIN! I haven't used any since I non-used the other day.. how many days clear am I now..? Seven days. I scored on December 23rd. Just checked me blog. That's the convenience of being a blogger. I know the day and date I did everything. Now I'm off to get my methadone. They're usually open by 8:30. I took half as much methadone as usual yesterday and today and am not feeling it so far... does this make me Addict-Invincible or will a horrible rebound come and slam me with creepytime withdrawal..? I bet it will. But there ya go. I want OFF that crap. The sooner the better. Chemical slavery. Heroin without any fun at all. I hate it.

I've got to go. Those sparrows are distracting me bigtime.

This is the twit-twit jug-jug chirrupydirrupydoodles song of the nightingale:



WOW I can't believe this, this is ROSIE from the Warp on film!!!



Warp Club London 1999: on lots of lovely MDMA hippieflipping I accidentally took 2 Mitsubishis at once in here, fell asleep and woke up flying through the roof. That was a good night (well morning: the club finished at 9pm so I never usually turned up till 6 or 7 in the morning)...
The place looks sparse because it was probably 11am by the time this was shot, and there were at least 5 more rooms of equal or bigger size, it was a HUGE club...
... ukh was the dancing really that terrible? I must have been on drugs!!



Illustrated: wow! a sink dirtier than mine! BBC Breakfast with Dermott Murnughan and Sian somethingorother; HM the Queen, looks good in a hat; a nightingale

Clearer

CLEARNESS IS SLOWLY STARTING TO APPEAR! My cluttered home is steadily decluttering. It's taking a LOT longer than I would like. I think it will take another 10 days to get things totally clear but the rate I'm going it's going very well.

I can't sleep and I'm exhausted. As I said I'm not doing anywhere like as much clearing as I'd like... but it IS being done. I'm so glad.

Everyone have a look at my cat video below; it's fantastic. I like the way he keeps patting the cat and that seems to palcate the poor purrer as it's wrapped in paper with a bow put on its head ...

Illustration: a 1940s housewife would go nuts in my house

2:48am Cleanup

UPSTAIRS DOWNSTAIRS has just just finished on reapeat. The original was only on a few hours ago. This was a classic TV serial about servants and posh people in a London townhouse from my childhood. Now the BBC have brought it back with the same actress playing Rose. If you're across the Pond and get BBC America, watch this, it's A1 costume drama. I like a good costume drama but it does have to be good. Upstairs Downstairs is even better than Downton Abbey. Next week that dreadful Larkrise to Nowhere is back on I cannot stand that.

I've been watching night time television. Prince Charles showed us his bird-chirping garden. The feathery little entertainers were singing their tiny hearts out for the heir to the throne. I'd like a garden like that, but I'd go for 10,000 acres, not just 15.

Now enough about television I have just had pasta in Lloyd Grossman tomato sauce. My Mum bought me the pasta sauce. Normally I'd buy Ragu. A Ragu means you can have five times as many tomatoes as weight as they're evaporated down in an oven dish. Welshcakes Limoncello probably knows how to do this. Her Xmas dinner pictures at her friend's house are amazing.

Now I'm in a buzzy mood. Having woken up feeling vile and dire. Like death warmed up. I said I was cleaning and I did have a stab at it but I basically felt ill so I went back to bed in the afternoon and slept till 9pm. Now I'm up and racing nicely. No I have NOT been taking amphetamines or any other drugs. It's just a natural mood swing. I'm only drinking for medicinal reasons. Keeps the jangly edge off. Now I must go I have to scrub this ******* floor. ******* houses. ******* landlord. ******* life. **** **** **** ****! See I'm being awfully prim by depriving you of my obscenity tirade.

I have to go. Keeping moving keeps me UP. And UP gets the cleaning done. I am crystal clear and shining. Gotta move gotta move gotta MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE!!

Do you like my blue smiling face? Isn't it amazing. Blue is the best colour. There's nothing unhappy about blue. Blue is a high by itself. Cool blue ....

4:14am: a catalogue of freak accidents in the US. 8 homeless people burned to death in New Orleans, 5 teenagers asphyxiated in Florida motel, 8 injured in ski lift disaster in Maine ...

Oh yeah and a riot at a Moscow airport due to no de-icing spray (no: staff probably drank it!)

HOW TO WRAP A CAT FOR XMAS
This film, with 4,000,000 views so far, provoked "outrage" among humourless animal charities who seem to spend most of their existence flailing about for something to be upset and offended about. I hope they really got their money's worth from this because it's hilarious:

Still here

I WENT TO BED AROUND 3AM, GOT UP AT 7:30AM. I felt dire. I spent an hour in a chair, knocking back methadone and three huge wine glasses of tapwater. I drank so much last night I was actually (slightly) hung over. Buying white cyder in 3-litre bottles was not the good idea I thought it was.

I barely get hangovers now. Somebody told me this has to do with opiate-dependence and I think they were right.

Actually I spent more than an hour in that chair. More like three. Finally at approaching quarter past eleven after two more enormous wineglasses of Hair of the Dog white cyder I'm starting to feel OK.

Everything I said in that earlier post "Gun to my head" was (unfortunately) true.

I got a comment from Gattina just now. Gattina is now a grandmother. She lives in Belgium with her Italian husband. Is German born, but speaks French (and English). In fact she speaks four languages fluently plus Dutch*, which she always says she doesn't speak, but if I can follow it just from knowing German and having studied a tiny bit of Dutch, I know she can. Notice I say "follow" not "speak".

She says I have to do what I have to do and in my mother's words Take Responsibility.

This is the crux of the problem: that's exactly what I tell myself! So why won't I listen?

Anyway who cares about listening; it's doing that counts. So I'm doing what I have to, albeit far FAR more slowly than I'd like. Chucking everything I don't need out out OUT.

*Gattina's grandson lives in Amsterdam and the northern part of Belgium speaks Flemish or Vlaams, as they call it, a dialect of Dutch.

A Gun to my Head

I'M IN TROUBLE WITH MY LANDLORD for being too scruffy. At least I think I am. Downstairs told me this. Downstairs and I do not get on. This is the trouble I have and I can tell you but it doesn't make anything any clearer or less How It Is.

Last time I was in trouble with my landlord (my old landlord) basically for living in a mess, for not coping. A way worse mess than this one, the day I had to go down the council to sort out my housing I had this weird feeling, as if someone had put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. Instead of feeling pain or stress I just felt unreal. I could not engage with anything. I knew what was happening, but it was not real to me.

That is how I feel now. I should be in a frantic scrabble to clear up, but I'm not. In a way I don't care about anything at all. If I get chucked out I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to go on holiday. Or vacation, to you Americans. I will take as much methadone as I can carry. I know where to buy it so I can get a week's supply up front at high doses. This I will cut down drastically on the road. Detoxing makes me hyper. Hyper makes me pace. Pacing is walking. I can get a lot of travelling done by detoxing. If I feel suicidal I'm lucky because there's snow. I need only go to sleep outside and I might be lucky enough to die. But I'm not into dying, as I said I'm going on holiday. I won't say where because people will try and follow me or spy on me. But I'm going.

If I stay here I will turn my home into an operating theatre. But I'm almost hoping to get chucked out. Because I'm fed up of my old life. The problems and non-problems I thought were caused by heroin seemingly aren't. I always knew this was the case. Heroin was only a mask, masking the reality of a person not coping. I don't need heroin to dissociate myself. I don't need heroin as an anaesthetic. I only feel real pain in withdrawal or extreme mood states. My ordinary depression is usually mild enough just to blank me. Most of the time. But I have a nasty tendency to cycle through various mental states and into one when I realize with full weight and intensity What I Have Done. And then I feel very deeply negligent and sorry. Sorry for the hurt I have caused others. And sorry for myself. Usually I don't feel for myself, but sometimes I do, and I hate feeling anything.

So I can live without heroin. Heroin was just a waste of time. I want off these opiates, they're only disabling an already disabled person. The sooner I'm off them the better. If I get made homeless I will have an A1 chance to come off because I will be nowhere near my methadone pharmacy, nowhere near the drug clinic or my "loving mother" who only wants to salve her conscience ~ or the rest of my family who do love me but I pity them for it. I wish I could kill their pain without killing them. (Maybe they would be better off on heroin!)

See I feel sad now because I have written the words of a badly messed up, lost person and I feel that. I can't accept that I am that person. Because if I could I would already be working not to be like that and I cannot do it. I try. I do try, but something invisible and very powerful, like bulletproof glass... something stops me. I wish I had never been born. I hate knowing the World. I don't care what the world knows about me, but I don't want to know the world any more. I never asked to live like this. I never asked to know what I know. I am the sort of idiot who would have bitten that forbidden fruit in Eden. I know. Drugs like Ecstasy, acid, ketamine, mushrooms opened up an understanding of something that is inexplicable to someone who hasn't been there. A kind of knowledge of good. A vision of paradise (on Ecstasy especially). So did heroin: an understanding of Evil. And a desperation you never knew was possible. And feeling it every single day for years on end.

I don't want to know. I don't want to know anything any more. I wish the anaesthesia would come back.

Riddance

I WAS IN A SERIOUSLY ANTIMETHADONE MOOD yesterday wasn't I? I was despairing that I'd ever have a life on methadone. I'm not sure I ever will but I
can try. And if I can't do that, I can get rid of the methadone. Not sure how I'll survive, but I'm determined to try that too.

My current priority is to clear my house, which is in a terrible mess. I have rubbish rubbish rubbish. Stuff I've picked up on the street ~ furniture. A television set also retrieved from the street I haven't even plugged in to see if it works. Clothes, sheets, crap all tangled and strewn. I have about 30 black sacks in readiness for the Great Chucking Out. I threw out quite a lot last week. This week the rest Has To Go. I'm setting a time limit of New Year's Eve, by which time my home shall be gleaming like an operating theatre.

Does anybody know a magic cure for unhappiness? I google stuff on depression and get the same useless DSM Diagnostic Criteria. I don't care about that rubbish or whether it's genetic, environmental, drug-induced or all three (probably all three). I want to know how to get Rid. Along with all that Rubbish. Rid Rid Rid.

Good Riddance, Bad Rubbish!

Stay of execution...

THE IDIOTIC COUNTY COUNCIL have given me a month to get them documentation that they ought really be sending off for themselves. Don't we live in a 24-7 wired-up world? Isn't identity theft on the up? So why don't THEY establish my factuals, instead of leaving it to me to bring in pieces of paper that could really be concocted by anyone with access to a half-decent scanner and laser printer..?

And now for a musical interlude:~

AVE MARIAThis is one of my favourite tunes:

Sorting it out...

TODAY I've an appointment with the evil council who are suing me, taking me to court, sending bailiffs round (I'm surprised a pickup truck sporting mobile guillotine and blood-proof basket with Head-Right Technology (TM) hasn't arrived at my door...
... Well anyway, I sort out the horrible tangle today. (Supposedly.)
Please wish me luck!

Into Town/Bailiff news

I WENT INTO TOWN yesterday, rode the tube for the first time in ages. Once I changed Central Line and sat opposite two Pakistanis, a Somali and a Korean-looking girl and a miserable British business type I felt like I really was in the metropolis.

I went up Tottenham Court Road, where you can stroll for five minutes passing nothing but electronics shops on both sides. The prices weren't as bargainacious as I remember (Argos, a shop that stocks almost everything and you pick from a colour catalogue and collect from local stores where I buy nearly everything in the toasters/kettles/lighting/non-computer electronics league, still beat most of them ~ but Argos only started stocking computers last year) and I tested about 280,000 laptops. I also closed their lids to get a proper idea of how big or small they were, and gently lifted them up ~ which made the Indian assistant in one shop nearly have a coronary. She got straight on her phone. I am sure she took me for a would-be shoplifter. Anyway I found a machine I wanted. But I refuse to fall in love with anything electronic. I suppose at least electronics though they do break down and dislike getting wet are more reliable than most human beings, so at least that is something...

I saw my Mum and Branzie (my stepfather). We had high tea near De Beers' diamond shop (extremely unimpressive display, considering they MINE the things ~ can't they affort proper bulletproof windows? Endless pavé-set sparkly-covered gold and platinum in every window ~ nothing so big as even one single carat to be seen anywhere!

I felt so exhausted I had to go home early. I'm sure they thought it was drugs. No ~ THAT is one of the illnesses everybody thinks is nonexistent but I had for years BEFORE the drug addiction!

Today I went to the council offices. No wonder I couldn't find them before ~ nobody knew where they were even when they were right round the corner, and they were MILES away. Though I DID like the suburban shopping centre ~ bigger than Reading's shops ~ just round the corner. Anyway, the lady I saw rolled her eyes when she saw me trundling up with documents sprouting from every orifice, made SOME sort of sense of them and got me an appointment on Monday with the bod who actually presses "APPROVE" on the computer that pays. THEN, so she says, the thugs can be kept at bay.

And my solicitor telephoned this morning, saying she is faxing everybody left right and centre. She hasn't faxed the prime minister or the queen, but she appears to have faxed everybody else...

Shhh! Listen...! (QUIET!!)

I DON'T WANT TO SAY horrible things about my neighbour, like I hope he has been shot dead, or I hope he has shot someone dead and is doing life ~ well he can't ~ unless he has a looky-likey even more looky-likey than the 25 or so all black kiddy-gang members who pile into his room sporadically and were there this morning... after staying away ALL weekend, except Friday night... Because they're back there this morning.
What is going on? This is so puzzling. When they first came they ~ and I mean all FIFTY of them ~ were there constantly. Their presence was IMPOSSIBLE to miss. Now they're hardly there.
He apparently told my downstairs neighbour, the one I had the row with over not saying hello when I came home to find a stranger staring at me like a psychopath (it was him but my eyesight is so terrible that, until I came right up close it could honestly have been anyone at all!) ~ GLARING at me accusingly ~ which threw me again, because I didn't expect my neighbour, who I hardly knew back then, to be doing that. So I said hello sheepishly ~ not being at all sure whom I was saying hello TO ~ THEN he accused me of being rude and I exploded WHAT ARE YOU SAYING "A HELLO WOULD BE NICE?!? I JUST DID SAY HELLO!" then he VERY rudely, in my opinion said "I DO HAVE EARS!"... NOT a good start to any "friendship"... well this one, who I grew closer to in solidarity in the nuisance situation... said Mr Noise Nuisance Neighbour had spoken to him and said he had a new place several miles away, so was moving out. And indeed ALL WENT QUIET.
And to Mr Nuisance's credit, even though he has come back, there has been little genuine nuisance since then.
I don't know what on earth such people do in their spare time, or how they live their lives. They're not heroin or crack addicts. Not dealing, so far as I can tell. I've shared properties with heroin, crack and "herb" dealers in the past and know the in and out short phone calls "where are you" pattern. That is not it. The constant comings and goings are DIFFERENT, young people. The youngest of whom seem little older than 13, 14. Which I don't like. Underage smoking weed in my house.
The bad attitudes, bad vibes are the worst part. As a group these people are obnoxious...
But individually, when I have said hello, they seem sweet as apple pie.
Curiouser and curiouser. It just saddens me to see these kids so obviously on the WRONG track ~ and doing it under MY ROOF. Sad... so very sad.
And they are STILL HERE...
WHEN WILL THEY EVER GO?!?
I hope they leave soon, and leave me in peace!!

PS I FOUND A HAMMYHOUSE FISHTANK on the street yesterday. Took it inside. Maybe I'll get trotterdonkey robbies again...! Who knows.... ;->...

STOP PRESS: CONTEXT CUT DIAMONDS ~
I got the wrong picture on Saturday. THIS is how they look. An entire natural diamond crystal is cut this simply... only 1 in 100,000 gems found are suitable... The cut is patented and available only through Tiffany... and how amazing does it look!!

Have the nuisance neighbours gone...

... or not?

My life is in constant query.

The noisy, nuisance neighbour ~ who really did take nuisance to extremes with swearing and brawls in our hallway, ten or more guests arriving at once at 3am, 4am, 5am. People chatting endlessly on mobile phones outside my door. Wrong door buzzers ringing. Stones thrown at windows (mine being at the front ~ lovely.) Bad attitudes. Total disrespect for fellow housemates. He forgot his key once and smashed in the huge glass front door pane (British houses are notoriously low security, even in 2010)... then had the cheek to say "someone on the street did it". Endless, endless nuisance. Ever since they've been in that room ~ an entire gang of them ~ we've had police "happening to be" strolling up and down our street or driving past, whereas I hardly ever saw police before. They're even alleged to have burgled the neighbours. Police were round for ages after that one. Scum scum scum.

Now the room is empty ~ MOST of the time.

Only on Friday, when I thought we were fine and free and RID of these idiots ~ about 25 of them AGAIN are in the room. For one hour. Then nothing.

Nobody has called by. None of his little gangbang friends call round now.

He was there yesterday for about half an hour.

I'm hoping these brief visits mean he's emptied his stuff and moved on. But that might be too good to be true.

Could just be he's in trouble with police and hiding out elsewhere.

I know he hasn't gone for good, because his (probably stolen) mountain bike is in our hall still.

When that's gone and he's gone and someone else is in that room who is QUIET and never talks to anyone... then, finally, I might be happy on THAT score.

Until that impossible date, I'm not counting any more chickens ~ until well and truly HATCHED!!

Gone

THE NUISANCE NEIGHBOURS REALLY HAVE LEFT! (Apparently). I got a tip-off the day before yesterday, no noise since then... no constant endless knockings, doorbuzzings, people brawling in the passageway all hours of the day and night. The house seems extraordinarily quiet. And yes, I'm sure the empty room is EVERY BIT as BIG as this one:



BVLGARI:
Makers of some of the finest of fine jewellery in the world...

ASBO Kids

ASBO Kids: ~ doesn't the one on the right look charming!!?!" ~ these two were described by the London press as "mini Krays"...
The Krays were pantomime gangsters in the 1960s. (i.e. they were real people but those who know say they were mostly show ~ no real shady businessman would tolerate his face in the papers the way Ronnie and Reggie Kray seemingly so enjoyed.)
An ASBO is a New Labour Government introduced Anti Social Behaviour Order, as imposed on young hoodlums. Now worn as a badge of honour amongst certain of the "lower orders" ...

Nuisance neighbours: I will post properly on Monday. Suffice it to say they're I am not the nuisance magnet ~ as I've been told repeatedly it's my type of emergency housing that's the magnet. None of the antisocial behaviour has been directed at me. It's just a general disrespect for the house and the others in it. E.g. the front door being smashed in by someone who can't be bothered to carry a key. (Where did I see THAT happen before...??)

WOW! for once a diamond photo showing a little bit of fire!

... so which famous stone is this, then?

One can find some rather pleasant jewellery online at BlueNile.Co.UK ~ go on, have a click!

Talking of bling: my COMPETITION IS STILL OPEN
ROLL UP! ROLL UP YOU HORRIBLE LOT! AND STAKE YOUR GUESSES
WHICH STONE IS WHICH??

~~~***closes Monday!***~~~

ANTISOCIAL BEHAVIOUR ON THE SAVANNAH
"BATTLE AT KRUGER"
sorry about the idiot amateur newsreaders, but this was the only clip I could source quickly without endless minutes of nothing much happening...
Lions vs buffalo vs enormous nile crocodile ~ amazing!

Nuisance Neighbours

Yes, it's happening again. New obnoxious neighbours. In the room RIGHT NEXT TO ME. But the landlord's promising to take action.

Here's the type of action I think he should take:



... Better still!...
Here's where expressions such as "racked with guilt" come from ...!



And here is yesterday's furry woodmouse drinking from an icicle:

Tame Shetland fieldmouse ...

If you still can't see my tubby furry icicle-drinking fieldmouse properly, click here!

I am reading The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton... I thought that chick was an American, so is there any reason the book should be set in British spelling?... did she think it was suitably posh to write like that?... or are Penguin Classics taking liberties..!?~??!?

MY BLING COMPETITION IS OPEN TILL MONDAY
SO GET YOUR ANSWERS IN NOW!!

Buy a replica of J-Lo's pink diamond engagement ring in silver and coloured cubic zirconia at Eve's Addiction ...