Day 450: I Am Quite Jolly, All Things Considered

I realise this tiny fact as I steam the wrinkles out of the white cotton sofa covers. I am on my knees in a red kimono singing along in the style of Les Dawson to "Slave" by Mick Jagger and his friends (as recommended by Bill Nighy). I find myself so astonishingly amusing ("fair enough!", I hear you cry), that I sit on the floor and laugh while I steam and then curse like a drunken matelot, for the steamer head is fucking hot and I have dropped it on my thigh.

I am spending quite a lot time by myself. In the day I speak to people on the phone whilst I walk around the pool that has a cover on it to stop the leaves from falling in. On a bad day I answer up to and including one hundred electronic mail communications from various people (mainly fans or people who want to be my friend). I look at my web-log, clean basins and sinks in detail and cook properly and wisely.

Last week I got the local bus to the local shop and came back with some shopping. I have gone for some walks and done some rubbish pressups and lain on the lawn in the sun that shouldn't still be as warm as it is, not this time of year, not in Canada, and thought about nothing at all.

In the evenings and at the weekends what I do is nothing to do with anyone, for it is between me and someone else, but either way I think it is safe to say that Canada may be home one day, not England.

I did not see that happening this time last year (plus two weeks), but then this time last year (plus two weeks) I hadn't met a French-Canadian pathologist in a hotel in Canterbury. But that's another story, I suppose.