And I've not, technically moved anywhere.
You need to listen to the Empire State, they're very good.
I made it to FC Utd, for a very good struggle but ultimately a 2-0 defeat for the mighty Berske. For the first time I was, all things considered, the target for "You Scouse bastards" chanting. "They've got a Liverpool postcode, that's enough for me," commented a bloke on the tram back to Victoria.
Two days later, at home, normal service is not quite resumed, ending up 8-0 victors against a clearly hastily thrown together Durham side. Two goals disallowed (one for "pushing in the area", which in non-league surely isn't an issue?)
The Bank are getting testy. I haven't been chased for the c/c so often before. I think it's just the mood of the nation, such as it is. But they've got an increase in minimum payment, that'll do for now. Covered tracks, sort of thing. Then I go and see a bloke on BBC News talking about how his wife and he managed to pay off some multi-thousand debt during the credit-crunch "which now is gladly over" or some such dribble. Balls to it, I say.
Woke up this morning (no, this ain't a blues song), all my lightbulbs blown out. Need to get a torch. No, revision: I /have/ a torch but no batteries (damn Maplin). So may have to hot-foot it to Argos. Or buy matches. I'll buy matches, probably.
I have limited time on this computer. Darn it! I must get internet access at home....