Home Sweet Home

It was a joyous occasion, the day we signed our lease. Of course it takes a further few days to process it, cross the t's, dot the i's, procrastinate some, talk about the latest episode of 'Ugly Betty' around the water cooler, scratch your genitals (girls do it too, they're just more subtle) and any other number of menial tasks before you can actually tell your tenants its ok to move in. But hey since moving to this country which don't get me wrong, I love dearly, I have noticed it takes so fucking long to organise anything and it only gets organised if you ring a minimum of 7 times to remind the people to do it and then half the time you have to ring the next person in the chain yourself. I mean come on people, I have no idea how your currency can be inversely proportional in strength to your work ethic! Now I apologise to any of the English citizens (or former English citizens, or those with dual citizenship too), I'm not trying to slight this great country of yours but you'd have to agree with me, it takes a shitload of time to get anything done around here.

O.K. enough whingeing (notice how I bit my tongue then and didn't make a reference to me being more 'pomish' with my large amount of whingeing, I'm really growing as an individual over here). We have a place to live, and what a little pad it is. With water views of the docks, a beautiful new kitchen where I can conjure up all kinds of gastronomical delights and a balcony just off of mine and Chesty's room ('The Robber' has ingeniusly figured out how to climb out through his window onto the balcony so he can suck down a quick lung dart or two). Plus we all chipped in and bought oursleves a nice high definiton LCD. Its nice to see we have our priorities straight isn't it?