This is what our estate agent's hair looks like. Only one of the reasons he can't sell his way out of a paper bag.
Rubbish truck outside my window this morning:
Boop boop...boop dee boop...
...for about 30 minutes, at 4:30am this morning.
Bearing in mind 1) I live in a cul-de-sac with zero traffic; 2) At 4:30am there is no one around to stand clear in the first place.
Temperature outside this morning:
A nice, round, zero. Not unsimilar to a naught. A chocolate starfish.
The weather forecast keeps promising snow in London by the end of the week. This has caused heated debate amongst the countrymen of this nation. As weather is ought to do.
Hottest conversation topics of the hour include Kate & William wedding memorabilia and it's ability to thrust the country out of economic recession (thimbles/cups/plates with their faces emblazoned on them, for instance, are a hit with everyone's Nan); and whether it will snow come the weekend.
Apparently it's too early for snow in London. Others say it's so dog balls cold that it might snow. These oscillative conclusions can take four pints of debates-worth. Believe you me.
Official news fresh off the press - I have SAD:
Either that, or I'm watching too much Twin Peaks. Oh and I need root canal. NHS Dental System, here I come. I know you're gonna fuck me up.
House hunting is giving me SAD:
Going out with an estate agent in what seems like the dead of night (6pm) to view houses doesn't seem natural to me. I should be in bed eating shortbread in my pajamas.
Last night's joker was special. He stalled the car about 8 times, told us he hated his job and wanted to quit, and then said, So. Guess 'ow old I am?
Er. Why don't you just tell us the specs of this flat?
I'm nineteen mate. Don't you fink I look older?
Er. Where's the nearest station to this house?
I dunno. I 'av only been working in the Souf West branch for two days and I dunno where we iz going, like.
Er. Where are we? What area is this?
Sigh. Thank God for the pub.