Good day

Woke up full of the joys of spring ready to review Third Year design 303. It was not as bad an experience as I had expected. Of course there were the usual idiocies to discuss in depth; floating cemeteries, emporiums for the consumption of illegal meats, places of great yoga healing ('maybe you should draw it standing on your head') and all of that, but what softened the blow was that my colleagues, sometimes and somewhat suspiciously, knew more about me than even I had remembered. They also seemed very reasonable types who'd probably spent the night kipping in the odd cemetery themselves. Most heart warmed I jumped on the bus to the White Horse and stared at last night's game. I have to say watching it, Chelsea were much better than I had thought, David something in particular, Torres in prospect. I became even more heartened, and even predicted a positive rennaisance in our fortunes. Meanwhile 'Lilly' took a liking to my beard and started babbling on about the state of the planet which is not unusual for those in the dancing profession. This sort of stuff I find soothing. Next I trooped in to the Rocket Gallery around the corner, a real emporium of Designer Stuff (who seem to like me a great deal) to ask how to change a lightbulb on my designer lamp, suddenly playing up. Walked out with a book on sex in comics (in German - even better) and a plastic dish of some sort. Excellent, but I'm short of a few quid for sure.

Got home contemplating lunch (which in my opinion should always be taken in Soho hours- around 4-4.30pm) only to receive a knock at the door for the delivery of our new kitchen waste bin. It's the best waste bin money can buy, and I'm not being John Pawson about it. Waste bins are a pain in the arse, and a good one a rarity. Julie and I had agreed we needed to upgrade after ten years of marriage since the last was a wedding present- we move on! Meanwhile, how cool is it that I was actually in for the delivery, otherwise it would end up in the arse end of West Ham.

Wow! what a day. Something's bound to go wrong when I open my e-mails.