Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

I've already done the "I'd make a very good pet" bit, haven't I? Still applies as still not solved. Hey ho.

So house or flat or maisonette or apartment or pied-à-terre or mansion hunting has been fun. There are a curiously large number of owners and sharers who seem to think that non-smoking refers to the central heating, and so the smouldering ashtray wrought ingeniously from a Corona bottle is an irrelevance. Another wasn't smoking at the time but simply had scorch marks on the wall round the coin slot for the washing machine, which was shared with the two other flats in the building. And is it a good sign if the flatmate who shows signs of not quite having finished the nervous breakdown explains that the letting agent is really cool because she'll even pay people back for the mousetraps? And then suddenly somewhere fairly reasonable comes along (with a couple of quirks) and there's much bonhomie, then promises I'll hear by so-and-so, and encouraging emails explaining they'll make a decision soon, and then... well, I'm still waiting. So basically, the small, tatty, carcinogenic and infested want me, and the large, decent, carcinogenic-only-from-the-new-carpets and not yet infested don't.

Hence still looking. I think I can probably find a room fairly easily, but it'd be somewhere I hated living, which might not make the whole living thing too great. I need to get on with ringing and emailing, but at the moment it's all a bit why-don't-they-like-me?

Oh and if you've ever had a bad day of habitation-hunting, do not find yourself buying chocolate in Soho simply to convince yourself that all is right with the world (ok, wandering the streets of Soho was to remind me why I'm doing this, the chocolate was because I'd been wandering too many streets that day and the magical power of apples had been overwhelmed). Because breaking into a bar amid the rubble of Berwick Street means you'll be constantly wary of the oddities passing by begging for some while trying to work out what you can give without encouraging further requests yet still leaving a decent amount and since when were they only five blocks wide? At which point some scrawny wastrel with hungry eyes and a piercing that glows against the fake tan like a jewel in an Ethiope's beer will approach and ask if I'm looking for a woman. Turns out that Fruit and Nut may contain nuts and so may hurt quite a lot when traversing the nasal cavity. It also turns out that some solicitors (well, what else does one call her?) take the emission of almonds from the nostrils as a sign that she should ask if I'm looking for a man instead. I'm not sure if the tears were of amusement at the situation (you think I have to pay for sex? Ye gods, I obviously needed the chocolate more than I thought if I look like that) or just of pain from my literal brown-nosing. And yet having reduced me to tears (and giggles) she carries on offering really great prices. Eventually she accepts my 'no thank you' and wanders off to... best not to think about it.

So remember, kids, this is what happens if one shops in Somerfield.

What else am I to mention? Art stuff: Cy Twombly at the Tate has one decent room which is all one work, and the rest of it can be largely skipped, being beigely predictable. I've done the Street and Studio here, haven't I? Did I do the RA's SumEx? *Checks* Oh, apparently I've written about neither. Um, SumEx same as ever, so getting ever less awe-inspiring each year, though still worth going because being an art jumble sale there's always something to be found. S&S is photography so an instant yes. If you have time sit through the club videos at the end; very much an exercise in people-watching and not all of it on screen. But makes for dismal, terrifying and pitiful viewing, and yet there's an 'and yet'.

Hmm, the problem with not blogging is then I find myself unable to remember what happened and when it did (and if I didn't take an EXIF-tagged photograph I really have no idea when it was). Who knew technology displaces human functions? Which reminds me, just finished Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance; good if troublesome and I'm still not sure if the ending I saw coming early on is a good or a bad ending, and I suppose seeking to define it as such is probably comment on the insidious nature of the beast illustrated within it. So now back to the Bond books. Oh, also read The Honeywell File as it was flung at me. An amusing quick read, slightly tedious in parts, and very much of its time, yet possibly still largely applicable.

And yes, I will get round setting all those hidden uploads on Flickr to public (or whatever release suits) at some point, just as soon as I finish naming them all.

Think that's how for now.

Anyhoo,