Easter Monday PM.

Bloody cold, bloody windy - but at least it's still daylight.

managed another layer of lining paper over half of the front room - now just need to figure out how to manage the rest - not looking like an easy job - crumbling render and wonky, loose skirting board are but a small part of the problem. Seriously thinking of hiding the worst behind built-in cupboards.

Managed to enrage myself by listening to Ian Duncan Smith on the radio early this morning. He's such a shit. Totally devoid of compassion, understanding or self knowledge. His entire life has been funded either by the state (Army, dole, parliament) or the arms trade (firearms salesman !!!!!!). His wife has only ever worked for a year - as his 'diary secretary - whatever that is and he seems to be quite sure he could cope on £53 PW 'if he had to' ( but he doesn't ).

I also caught up with the final episode of 'In The Flesh'.

Every now and then - something comes along that reminds you how much real talent there is out there. It was an exceptional piece of work - not actually about 'zombies' at all - but referencing anyone who has ever been alienated, an allegory for any social or religious group that has been outcast - anyone, black, Jewish, gay could have seen parallels in recent history - post apartheid South Africa or the estates of post conflict Kosovo or Belfast - bloody genius. There were some very clever touches, totally desaturated film - almost monochrome - so that in the penultimate scene - when a father sees the blood on his hands and realises he's murdered his own son - you reel from the shock of the colour - his physical stance echoes almost exactly another father trying to explain what it was like to Carry the lifeless body of his own son. For me - it was the familiarity - I've already said that it was filmed in the area I grew up and I was able to recognise many things - but it was as if I already knew 'that' town - 'those' people and 'that' railway station (in my case - Bidston or Shotton - planning my escape). An excellent piece of television, brilliantly cast and written. They have left the door open for a sequel - but I hope they don't - it has already said everything it needs to.

Everything in the fridge is still frozen. Eggs collapse as they de-frost - you can snap cheese slices like brittle chocolate.

There was a play on the radio as a tribute to Richard Briars. I wish they hadn't bothered. It was site.