It's all a bit fraught in London at the moment, the ladyfriend is on about popping up to IKEA but I'm put off by the terrorists. Just imagine the shame of dying with a Scandinavian nic nac called something like TWAT in your hands? No, I intend to stay well away from the throng. Call me a coward if you will, I don't mind. Infact, I'm already being measured up for my burca.

My Wonderful Mother and Super Step Dad have gone off on a cruise around the Med on a huge floating palace. The ship is so huge I imagine at night time it must look like the New York Skyline with all the cabin lights on. I don't think I could be talked into such a venture - I have a morbid fear of sleeping on board ship. I just know I would wake to the sound of water gushing in under the door and all my toiletries hitting the walls. No, I don't think I'd like it in the least. And ofcourse all those Northerners.

The Ladyfriend and I have been looking after their house since Saturday and I have only just finished rummaging through all of the drawers. It's nice being in new digs. We have cats to feed, seed to scatter for the birds and, best of all, badgers to cater for! I feel like Bill Oddie with my box brownie trained on their humbug like heads. I'm going to stay up late on Saturday night and see if I get to see the foxes and the deer. It's a blue moon so it will be extra magical!

Pictures atlast of my holiday - Click here

I feel like the size of a house today. Not any old house but one with a garage full of half empty paint tins, handy bits of wood and a broken Dyson hoover in. I have consumed some rare old rubbish this weekend. I am ripe for the health farm. I need to be plucked like a bulging Victoria plum and taken to the hot box, left to steam for three hours, towel wrapped around my neck, whilst my trunk shrinks trapped inside.

The best news I have heard today? - Talk like a pirate day

Bit concerned about the flower arrangements for this year. It's my own fault of course. It stems (ged it) from infrequent and haphazzard trips to the garden centre. My pots on the patio are now an explosion of clashing colours which I think is gaudy but the ladyfriend thinks is pretty. I'm letting it go for this year but it wont win Chelsea Gold. I wince everytime I trapse out with the Mai Tais.

Mercy me I have been a busy bee. It's all work and no play and, yes, I am a dull boy. I don't know why I have not been able to spare a few minutes to make my daily entry - I am normally the first to down tools, read a fwd:email about about a miraculous moment which happened to a woman in California with a stump for a leg which I must then forward to all my friends in my sad little inbox. Any how I have not had much time. I still have not sorted out my glorious holiday pictures. I am getting behind. Life is running at a pace too fast for me to comfortably move in. It's a little out of sync. Like watching an advert for sweets which have been made for a European market. I feel as though I have been dubbed by a woman with a penchant for bratwurst. I've checked my arm pits and will get the Gillette out post haste.

I have had a little 'mood indigo' and have been full of 'humph'. I was so devoid of fun and lack lustre that I put my fingers up to the bike and jumped on the bus this morning. One pound and ten to go three stops, shocking. I won't make poverty history if I carry on at this rate. My bank account is looking unsightly at the moment and it will be the debtors prison for me if I allow luxury to get in the way of good housekeeping. I've never been able to look after the pennies. The ladyfriend is the same, only, she drinks like a fish and will no doubt end up in the workhouse with a purple nose and pissy knickers. I will end my days travelling like a Romany painting landscapes on the back of match boxes for tourists, doing odd jobs for kindly bar owners and tickling trout in rural streams.

Another smashing holiday and I'm back fully refreshed and shiny new. Atleast I was until I turned up at work. I am toying with my holiday bracelet (I always buy something to wear around my wrist to remind me that my freedom was not my imagination. It lasts all year and as the tan fades the bracelet remains and gives me some hope and something to aim for)

Still, Summer is not over yet and there are plenty of functions I have still to attend and participate in. I am sewing my Brighton Pride sequins as I speak and you can't move for glitter in the sitting room.

I've eased myself gently into my 'oliday like an Angel Delight which could perhaps do with a few more rotations of the whisk and I'm flopped out in the blissful warmth of a late June day. I'm in Blue using their internet facility and sipping gingerly on a large Cappuccino. The music sounds a bit David Grayish which normally grates but hasn't bitten into my reverie.

I have just checked my hotmail for the first time in ages and to my horror my account had been deactivated due to a prolonged period of unuse - my goodness if people were to extend this rule to other elements of my life I'd been in a right old pickle. Still, this holiday is all about picking up things I have left to dust - books, kites, fishing nets, paintbrushes, mooching in shops for hours. I have already scooped a nice pair of trousers from a closing down sale. It was quite a scrum. Women with push chairs all after the same crop top. It wasn't pretty. I tried on the trousers in a changing room which had a faint whiff of sick about it but I wasn't put off, I'll look a bobby dazzler on the beach in 'em.

Matthew Szurgott - you'll be pleased to know my book is full of knights, blood and gore and I watched two episodes of Spaced with the Homageometer on before breakfast this morning.

Oooh I'm dashing away with a smoothing iron trying to get everything at work ready for my holiday. In ten minutes I will have my freedom. Two weeks off to explore coves, read books, experiment with fusion food! Oh tres jolie! My next post will be from an internet cafe!

Happy Solstice every one. I didn't make it down to Wiltshire AGAIN! It's a bit like Christmas, every year it comes around and you're not prepared (staying up all night means a day off work and if you don't book it you don't go etc, etc) and just like Christmas when it comes around you say 'next year I'm going to be better prepared (buy presents in June and keep them tucked in the sock drawer, etc, etc) My new age batteries are well in need of a charging. I need to get down with the crusties and shake my thang in Avebury.

By the way, above is a picture of me waiting at Eastbourne train station for the train to Hastings Jack in the Green. It is me in my elf ears which you can't really see, never mind. I haven't got my garland in my hair so you will have to use your imagination. Next year however, I intend to dress as Mr Tumnus.......as I was saying about Christmas.....

I'm lightly toasted like a prematurely grabbed out crumpet which you can't wait for because you're too hungry. I tried to stay out of the sun as best I could, rubbed in the sun lotion and sat beneath a brolly on the beach but the UV's caught me here and there. I've got those ridiculous t-shirt marks that make you jump when you have a bath.

The New Forest was fun. I love camping shops. Boxes of tent pegs, rails of leisure wear, collapsible kitchen equipment and miles of string which you cut to order. Marvellous. A romantic world of the open road, starry skies and bird song. A joy. The ladyfriend and I have pencilled in August for a return journey with the two man.

Yesterday it was too hot to mow the lawn. We just managed a third of it, as a result the back garden looks like a pikey kid's hair cut. I must press on with it tonight. I take my annual leave on Friday so everything has to be ship shape and ready for my summer seaside break.

Aaaah, this is baby Amy my nicest niece. She's fab. I went to see her last night with my wonderful mother and the ladyfriend. We clucked like hens, passing her amongst ourselves as soon as she started to cry.

Last night I sliced a finger on my left hand furiously trying to open a packet of noodles with a sharp kitchen knife. As a consequence my ablutions this morning were hampered and I dressed myself more by accident than design.

Rugger Bugger Matthew Szurgot has his own website now so I must point you to it - it's in its infancy but he is keen for his audience to grow from the outset, so here you go www.yououttonight.co.uk

I'm off to the New Forest this weekend, it's going to be a scorcher, I reckon I might peel off and take a plunge in the solent.

Round. Like a circle in a spiral. Like a wheel within a wheel. Never ending or beginning. On an ever-spinning reel. Like a snowball down a mountain ...

I've been watching the wheel of my bike as I slug along to work in the morning. There's a big dollop of muck on it, quite possibly dog related, that comes round quicker as I pedal faster.

It makes me feel young again riding a bike. Not because I feel fitter and thinner (I don't think I've dropped a dress size yet) but all the things I used to do (like getting dog muck on my wheels) is happening again. I fly down the hills, lean over to fly round corners, whack scratchy overgrown hedges, ride on the pavement and best of all - pull up the handle bars to leap up kerbs. My heart is always in my mouth, will I make it? Or will I go arse over mammary infront of the rush hour traffic.

There is such a thin line between being tidy and slovenly, a good housewife and a slattern. Take Monday night, I was making Cod in Parsley sauce - I was feeling a little under the weather and the favourite family dish is ideal invalid food. My fish was cooking nicely so I prepared myself to Bechamel. My butter was in the pan so I pulled out a bag of flour from the cupboard and that's when it happened. One minute I'm Martha Stewart the next I'm Wilfred Brambell. My generous spoon of self raising was crawling with weevils! I had let things go and my pantry had become infested. I checked another bag and the blighters were there! The shame of it. It just goes to prove, when you think you are on top things you really aren't, there are always the small things building up. Check your flour bags ladies.

What a weekend! I've tacked, jibed, capsized and fingered an admirable (or should it be Admiral) Bowline. This sailing lark is fantastic fun but I still can't get the turning bit to work properly. I flounder about in the boat, the sail flapping madly, whilst the other students pass me with ease. I'm no Ms MacArthur, that's for sure. I am enjoying sailing club life however, especially the tea and sponge cake afterwards.

Ah ha - Miss Diane's kiddy wink is doing nicely - Click here

Koo-koo-ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know - Oh it's very sad. I don't like it when the really good ones die. What a shame, and what a tragic way to go. Oh, too sad to write today.....I'm off to Play.com and see if they've got a nice box set going.

I'm all arse about face today. Here I am, the sun truly over the yard arm and I am only now settling down to write my memoirs. I've been working like a stable hand and that's the truth. It won't stop yet either. I've got a bit of Monty Don to do when I get home. I've a cart load of plants to pot up, a delightful meal to prepare and then, if I'm not too wan from my labours, Spring Watch to watch. Tonight we get to see Hares boxing. I'm getting back to nature at the moment. It is very fashionable to provide for wildlife and roll naked in wet grass. I'm loving myself in my Cotton Traders Wrinkle-Free Chinos. I have already instructed the ladyfriend to build me a hide, I'll have her dashing off to B&Q before you can say "Lesser Spotted Dendrocopos minor".

To the country this weekend to stay with MR & Mrs Brown. We had a lovely time, drank like a fish. Browsed around some nice antiques and kicked a few Queen Anne legs whilst no one was looking. We went to the Newbury Farmers Market yesterday, my goodness there was some good stuff. The ladyfriend and I filled our baskets with ham, free range eggs, tomatoes, plants and a huge bundle of asparagus. I felt very Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall as I man handled the goats cheese.

The ladyfriend and I ate all the produce last night and it was quite heavenly. However, I fear the old water is rather pungent today. I am flushing through but I was a bit greedy, piling on the spears last night....thank goodness the season is short.

Beautiful June day, sun high in the sky, swallows on the wing, few clouds and a gentle breeze and I am sitting here at work in arctic conditions. Our modern offices come complete with the modern day asbestos - air conditioning.
The best form of air is that that floats in through a window. The natural stuff. I can't wait for the outbreak of disease. Did you know the most sterile environment is in the middle of a field? That little gem of information comes from experiences in the first world war. Germs multiply because they can't get out - yuk, yuk, yuk. I should start a sweep stake to see who the first victim will be.

On a dismal first day of June the Double D's are leaving on a jet plane - I don't actually know if they'll be back again. Dawn and Dave are heading off to a life in Spain. As the plane taxis along a Malaga runway England, with its escalating crime and plummeting family values, will drift away like a packet of fags on a receding tide. Lucky them. A life of sun, sea and sangria awaits them. And sunburn no doubt. Keep 'em covered Dawn.

I've gone right off that Natasha Kaplinsky, actually I always viewed her with caution. She's boss eyed, a constant auto cue reader and, if today's performance is anything to go by, a drunk. She's a rotten apple in the BBC barrel and I for one do not want to watch her slurring at my and other licence fee payer's expense. That nice Jan Leeming was a good little performer, yes she read the autocue but you couldn't tell. Jan looked up from time to time. Perhaps Natasha thinks she's 'bigger than all this' now she turns up like a bad penny on most of the BBC's output (all be it poor)and I don't like it. Ooooh those Russians. I've got one word to say to Kaplinsky - Selina Scott.