It'll only hurt for a lifetime

Oh nothing much. We had a gathering last night for the first time in ages. These fine lovely friends (and one without an online presence, as far as I'm aware) came around for games and food and far too many glasses of wine, and though I'm not feeling brilliantly, I think I got off relatively easy. These last few months off the drink have done wonders for my liver, on top of everything else (skin, weight, mood, etc.), and I think I might meander back in the direction of that wagon over yonder and have myself another sit-down on its kindly passenger seat.

Today Bruce and I were driven around Muswell Hill, a trendy suburb of North London, to have a gander at the properties and neighbourhood. The difference between there and where we live currently isn't so much night and day as it is used condoms and angora jumpers. You want the latter, come around our area, though I recommend you make the extra treck for the posh sweater.

We met briefly with an estate agent who was this close to getting dumped by my mistrustful-of-all-things-agency husband, though we will try and remain open-minded for the benefit of our future new home.

Meanwhile, we're moving ahead with the application process so that we have everything in place the instant we decide to give London the old heave ho and set sail for Canadialand. Land of the free, home of the large Tim Hortons coffee with Timbits, mmmmm.

I've brought some work home with me (well, the intention to work anyway, as the internet constitutes my workspace, wherever it lies) in the hopes that I can make this upcoming week slightly less hellish than it's going to be. So that's what I'm off (here) to do now.