For sale.

Our first marital home here. What a lovely price eh? Sadly we won't see any of it as we are renting. We could live like kings (or a queen in Mitch's case) for that price in Scotland. We're off to look at a place just behind us but it'll be sad to move out, mainly because we both hate moving. Oh, and of course it's our first marital home. Och weel, such is life. Any takers?

My busy morning.

So, it turns out when Mitch goes away I revert to my usual working hours which are staying up late and getting up early as a consequence of writing. Or, burning the candle at both ends as my dad would tell me when I was a lad staying up watching tv or reading then getting up early and doing a paper round at the age of 12. So what does this all mean? Not much, but I was up late reading and trying to write Nigerian post-colonial monetary history last night and got up early this morning to organise collecting data on Hong Kong sterling holdings from the Bank of England. Then I got a buzz at the door - I answered (don't worry this is going somewhere, honest) to be told I had a delivery! That was a nice surprise. The guy asked what floor I was on and I told him the top (it's a 4 story building so not too high) to which he replied, and I quote, 'we don't do stairs'. Pardon? 'We don't do stairs, we're not insured'. So yes, that delivery charge I paid for didn't actually include the package getting delivered to the door. I would swear but I'm trying not to be to potty mouthed in case my in-laws are reading. (For swearing I suggest go here, here (sadly departed, but still makes me laugh) and here.) They all do swearing as I probably would if I wasn't trying to keep it clean.

So anyway yes, they don't do stairs. Because they're not insured. What is this? America? A place where suddenly even delivery men are considered so potentially litigious that they no longer have to walk up stairs? Ridiculous. And before I'm (perhaps correctly) accused of indolence, this is what I ended up carting upstairs (flat-packed) and then putting together:



I'm off to the Bank of England now. At least there they'll bring the folders I want to look at to me. I wonder how long it is until archivists are considered so potentially litigious that they'll be banned from that on insurance grounds?

A photoblog of the Big Smoke.

The Hope Workers Cafe on Holloway Rd. I've never eaten there but I love the sign outside.



The view at sunset from Chez MacKenzie.



The front of Chez MacKenzie.



Stack at the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green.



Me at the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green. I had to fight that kid for the right colour bricks. And his mum.



Mitch asleep while Stack and I built our names.



Melton Square out the front of Euston Station. Believe it or not but this picture is actually in colour and not black and white.



St Paul's at dusk. I love St Paul's, but then you knew that already right?



Shepherd's Bush H&C line station.



Camera stall in Portobello Market.



The erstwhile New Piccadilly Cafe by Piccadilly Circus. A lovely old London Cafe with formica tables and excellent tea. Daniel ate 6 sugar cubes in under a minute here for a pound. Happy days.



St Paul's again. I told you I liked it.



I think this is Baker St underground station but I'm not sure - can anyone confirm? If it is then it is my favourite underground station in London.

Noisy clowns.

There is a couple of brain donors outside working for EDF smacking what looks like a giant clamp with a sledgehammer against the side of their truck, which has been running now for 30 minutes, even though it is stationary. Have they not heard of global warming through air pollution? Nice to see EDF workers can take a gung-ho approach towards petrol consumption knowing full well the customer will end up paying for it. Ridiculous.

STOP PRESS! They've now started using a circular saw to fix the clamp. I'd almost put money on one of them injuring themself and/or the other.

Hame to be.

Anyone wanna see Mitch and I's new matrimonial home to be?

Have a look here and here then. We'll have a spare room, which means of course that we'll be expecting visitors. Lots of them. That means YOU.