I think about some things I learnt last year, Pt 1

Yes it is one of those!! But it is also not One Of Those, because it is me writing it and I am great and not full of cock about things like "personal growth" or "achieving my personal goals", etc.

I can make bread

Regular readers will be aware of my obsession with this astonishing bread recipe. I make bread the whole time now, even in my sleep, and I think shop-bought bread (unless crafted by organic free-range 'artisan bakers' and costing over $8 a loaf) is rubbish and should be banned.

So great is my confidence that tomorrow I am going to learn how to bake even more difficult stuff with a man called Dominique Homo, who teaches French Canadians how to make croissants from a garage just outside Boisbriand. (A quite brilliant Christmas present from the French-Canadian pathologist with whom I live.)

The best radio programme in the world is not on Radio 4 (The Archers doesn't count)

Yes it is true. The best radio programme in the world is This American Life. This link is to a very good episode, and this link is to my favourite episode, in which a very funny lady consults with Phil Collins on breaking up with someone.

The only bad thing about This American Life is that it has a lot of listeners, and the law of averages means that some of them are going to be utter cocks, including this utter cock who posted on the This American Life page on Facebook (whether or not I am a cock for being on Facebook is another thing altogether).

(The context is that the podcast is currently free, and they're asking for donations in a not-annoying way):







(If you are wondering why this person is a cock, you should probably not be reading this web-blog.)

The perfect boots do exist

What is great about living in the bit of Canada where I live (where it is fucking cold for about half of the year), is that you think about clothes and stuff differently. In London, the perfect boots would have been some fancy-arsed nonsense, but here, the perfect boots are chosen with the following criteria in mind:

1. Warm, up to -40.
2. Mean you are able to walk through snow of up to 1ft without snow falling inside top of boots.
3. Waterproof (see above)
4. Most importantly, mean you can walk on pavements covered in ice covered by frozen slush covered by snow, or (which is worse) just covered in a thin layer of ice, without falling on your arse every 2 seconds.

In the same vein, the perfect hat is one that is warm, covers your ears and not itchy. It is important not to look like a killer, but other than that what you look like in it is not that important.

Oh, and if you want the perfect boots, they are here.

England is weird, which is an actual fact.

Actual fact.

I have found a new hobby

It requires the purchase of many large poodles, but I think it will be worth it. "Creative grooming", indeed!

I remain astonished by the search terms that lead readers to my web-blog

I provide a brief update for my legions of adoring fans

People have been asking me impertinent questions about my flat!!! Here is an 'upate' in the form of key facts, one set of which includes the word 'cunt' when describing a freeholder called Mr Dave.

Fact 1

It is not sold, despite the Haart of Brixton board outside proclaiming that is indeed sold 'Subject to contract'. A wanker has been trying to buy it for his spoilt daughter for 5 months. His game is dropping the price now and then; all things considered, he has been playing a long and boring game for twenty thousand pounds (I have got off lightly, considering the 'recession').

The estate agents are also fucking idiots, as is his solicitor who retired and passed the file on to someone else before Christmas; said new solicitor has not yet opened the file.

Meanwhile, my own solicitor travels back and forth to Devon, and the freeholder - an unspeakable cunt called Mr Dave, to whom I will without a doubt send a poo in a box (or an anonymous card that says, in the finest hand, "You, sir, are a cunt") - is trying to charge four hundred pounds for the filling out of a questionnaire.

Happily, the words "we'll take it off the market and let it instead" had the required effect, and someone is now faxing someone else about something. My Canadian friends listen in horror when I tell them this story, and ask questions about English property law with round innocent Colonial eyes.

Fact 2

None of this really bothers me, as these things are always annoying and there is nothing I can do about any of it .

Fact 3

MonkeyMother, in an act of kindness that far exceeded her greatest act of kindness so far (i.e. delivering me to a grateful world), spent a great deal of time, energy and money finding a home for the cat, a retardo called Monster.

Monster was taken on by a cat rescue home and put up for adoption and is, from what I can gather, now living happily in Bromley with a deaf woman called Irene and eight other cats.

Fact 4

My upstairs neighbour, Twatboy, turned out to be a decent chap, helpfully providing copies of insurance, looking after my friend and tenant when the kitchen ceiling fell in, and generally being nice. My friend and tenant suggested that his transformation might be something to do with his newish girlfriend, who spends a lot of time in her pyjamas eating peanut butter on toast.

Fact 5

I have been asked whether I "have a ring". I have many rings, including one for attaching keys together in a convenient bunch. Is that what you mean?

Fear not, legions of adoring fans: I am not dead

...I have however been slightly preoccupied, what with Christmas in Amsterdam, New Year in London, packing up and selling my flat in London, coming back to Montreal and working in advertising during the worst recession since the dawn of time.

I will be back once I have dealt with various ISSUES. In the meantime, do let me know if there is anything particular you would like to know; I have no energy to think of 'topics' myself, you see.

Yours in -21 ("feels like" -35)

NWM