Tuesday PM

The rest of the day has been cancelled - as I've had another of my confrontations with BT. Head herts now.

Very busy few days - but only one piece of work left to do this week - in fact.. this year. That's the problem with freelance - no guarantee that I'll ever work again.

Spent nearly £100 on a new element for my range style oven, didn't make me happy. Have to get the dogs booster injections done in the morning - that will also cost me money. Everything seems to be expensive at the moment.

Aimless shop ramble.

Worked in Brighton yesterday. Everyone working in the M&S food place at the station was Russian. They were also very polite. Earlier in the day I'd bought coffee at the Costa booth on Hastings Station Concourse for the first time - I've always avoided it for 'political' reasons - and bought lukewarm and fairly shitty coffee from the WHSmiths booth on the other side, usually from a friendly but mentally and socially challenged human shaped blob. The bloke who served me at the Costa was friendly, polite, professional, and asked the right questions in the right way. The coffee was also better, and he was very good looking. I've said before that in Brighton, all lowly shop staff are highly educated students with nice manners who appreciate the value of having an actual job. I have been into the MacDonalds on London Road a couple of times recently because I'm working a few doors behind it at the moment - and the staff in there are STAGGERINGLY nice, friendly and warm - it makes a difference, and makes the shit food almost edible. The staff in the MacDonalds in Hastings, are not. The fat girl in the COOP who once refused to scan a pineapple because 'I don't touch no weird shit' - served me earlier - "ooohh, that's a lovely big bag of potatoes" she said. I have no idea what goes through her mind. It's like another species. have I ever mentioned that - despite really needing new glasses - every time I go into an opticians, I get ignored. The staff in these places are so fucking superior and arrogant - just walls covered in hundreds of over priced, locked on, frames - 2 or 3 surly staff members - who always wait until you enter the store - and then make a point of finding urgent paperwork to do - and then make a point of ignoring you.

I don't give a toss about the royal baby, I'm sick of it already - but was amused that the Daily Mail ran the headline "in these dark days - a Royal shaft of light" - I think that giving HRH's penis a supernatural power is probably pushing things a bit.

I need a haircut, but I lost my wooly hat and can't find another one I like, so it will have to wait.

I downloaded the Martin Rossiter album - legally, of course. It's actually very good indeed. I am the last person on earth to find out that he really is related to Leonard Rossiter.

It only took a week - but small dog has discovered a way to get over, or under, the expensive stairgate on the living room door. I give up. Let the little fucker shit, piss and rip up all my furniture - I regularly get the urge to walk out of the house and not come back. She won't like that.

On Rye Road - at the top of Old London Road, at the junction of The Ridge - someone has build a brand new detached house - in about 5 weeks - threw it up. Looking at it today, I realised the front door was wonky - closer scrutiny, and the WHOLE HOUSE leans over by about 5 degrees. It's literally just finished. Tossers.