Received a present from a student the other day. It was a plastic rat, on the end of some string. "It's a necklace, and rat is very lucky. It bring happiness!" she explained enthusiastically.

A happy rat. Just what I needed.

Finally saw Volver, which is sweetly bizarre and which I recommend highly. Even with my short attention span, I didn't tire of reading the subtitles, which is always a good sign. "Little Miss Sunshine" also has its moments, and is odd enough and dark enough to suit my tastes...

Having decorated my office, fans of any of the following might like to know I have a row of pictures in my office of: Jesus (Dali's Crucifixion), Morrissey and Alan Bennett. I'm not sure what any of them would make of it.

I'm not sure what Camden Council are trying to do on our road, but I think it might involve building a moat round our house. There is a big hole to the left of our front door where they are digging up the water pipes, and another big hole on the other side that has something to do with electricity. Every time you leave our house you do so by crossing a sort of blue drawbridge they have erected to ensure I don't slip into either hole, and as you walk sdown it you are greeted by an entourage of Camden Council workers in flourescent jackets. it's quite exciting.

The only other revelation this week is that my mate Nigel The Vegetarian is now, to my surprise, Nigel The Carnivore, having cracked, as so many others before him, at the smell of frying bacon.

The only new cow gags, which I admit are growing a little old-hat, that I have come across this week are:

PESSIMISM
You have two cows, but they will probably both catch BSE and die.

INDIVIDUALISM
You have two cows, which you paint blue and cover in polka dots.

Do send me any more, if you have any.

Happy Weekend.
Px

So, the Labour Party has leapt into School Playground mode as Charles Clarke, the MP who looks like he spends his breaks nicking other MPs' dinner money, accused Gordon Brown of being "absolutely stupid" for smiling as he left Downing Street a week or so ago. Absolutely stupid, Mr Clarke, like, say, letting hundreds of criminals who don't have the right to remain in the country in the first place out of prison early? Let's face it, when it comes to stupidity, Clarke of all people ought to know.
Clarke apparently favours Alan Milburn for the leadership, which I have to say is enough to put me off him, even though I know nothing about him. It does not, however, endear me to another possible contender, Alan Johnson. (Please note that being called "Alan" greatly increases your chances of being able to stand in this particular contest.) On a practical level, he's the Education Secretary, and so, in my opinion, at least partially responsible for the heavily indebted and overworked students that turn up at my office door every day or, worse, those that don't, and later drop out altogether. On a more superstitious note, alarm bells really should start ringing when an Education Minister comes out of nowhere and unexpectedly claims the leadership of a major political party.

My "book" has started to feel rather like a figment of my imagination. It is still not yet on Amazon, is it was supposed to be, and as for a physical copy, they don't appear to exist yet. This is only adding to my generally miserable and grumpy mood today, as is the headache on which two paracetamol have made absolutely no impact. And today I have to tell 100 bored Foundation students how wonderful their lives are now that they have access to a Counselling Service and a Careers Office half an hours' walk away.

On the upside, my downstairs neighbours (not the ones who broke my lock) get the Guardian delivered every day. I'm sure there's an oxymoron in there somewhere, but anyway, this has considerably improved my opinion of them.

Yes, I have now moved house, and live in glorious Gospel Oak, which of course my mother is calling Hampstead. It also seems that every organisation that I have had anything to do with over the last couple of weeks is ona personal mission to irritate me. Take Lloyds for example. Now, admittedly, irritating me seems to be one of Lloyds's particular strong points (unlike, say, good interest rates or customer service) but I gave them the benefit of the doubt, assuming that I could change my address easily online via internet banking. Once I had typed in my numerical user ID and my two passwords (letters and numbers) I found myself on their "secure" site, where I could (if I so wished, or had the capacity to do so) transfer hundreds of thousands of pounds in and out of my account. But despite this I could not change my address. Why? "For security reasons". How very reasuring. I was told I could, however, get a form sent to be so I could do this. I clicked on the appropriate button to be assurred that a form was in the post to me. TO WHERE?? I'VE MOVED!!! YOU DON'T KNOW MY ******* ADDRESS!!!

And breathe.

Then of course my delightful new neighbour decided to try and let herself into my flat, forgetting that she actually lived upstairs (it's easily done), and got her key stuck in my lock, which broke. At least by this point we had electricity, which had cut out on Sunday night because unbeknownst to us at this point we were on a key meter, but a.) nobody had told us and b.) someone had nicked the key.

So you will understand that my week has only got better, not being able to get any worse, as I have run four workshops to steer our new international students through our wonderful banking system and the confusion that is university administration. Basically, I am currently being paid to talk, which those who know me will know is a Good Thing. All is not great, though, as I am currently internetless at home and, not content at having failed miserably in all ten writing competitions I entered over the summer, I want to enter some more.

Went to L'Etoile last night. It's one of those restaurants where you need to take out a bank loan to pay for food you need binoculars in order to find. £26 for meat they hadn't even cooked (yes, I know, the British always overcook meat, it's just that I'm a philistine and like to be absolutely sure by dinner isn't breathing before I eat it.) Pretty decent food, but not necessarily £50 a head worth of decent.

Took a little pilgrimage up to King's today to see a friend. He wasn't there, so I sat outside Somerset House and felt terribly cosmopolitan, eating my cous cous and watching people in suits buying expensive wine from the kiosk. As for my friend, he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. (I realise, of course, that I probably should have texted him before I trapised up to King's. However, this course of action requires I certain amount of common sense, something which I do not possess in abundance.)

My race went very well, by the way. I completed it in 31 minutes, and even beat Jo Brand, who had stopped off half way round for a cigarette.

More Cows

Thatcherism:
You have two cows, and are about to buy shares in a third.
Your neighbour has no cows, and their house is about to be repossessed.
Good for you.

Surrealism:
You have one aardvark. It is learning to play the panpipes.

Probably won't post again until after my race. Wish me luck...