I lied. I’m not on a train. But I will be, soon. I’m at Caf√© Coffea. It’s London, Soho, 21 Brewer St if anyone cares. The coffee is good, the cake is moist, and the waitresses are all seemingly hand picked to be both beautiful and to have only a small smattering of English. None the less, it’s all good.

Anyway, at 23.50 I’ll be on the sleeper service to Falmouth to see Yolanda, because I’ve not seen her in a while; besides, it sounded like a good way to burn a weekend.

But, for now, time to close up and get moving. I have a train to catch at 23.50. And I can’t be late. It’s the Slow Train to the other end of the world… Well, Cornwall, anyway. Might as well be the other end of the globe… I could get to NYC faster.

Not long after the last update, I quit my job. Needless to say, I’ve my reasons for doing so, but top of that list is the fact that I’m young and stupid enough to have some morals and stick to them. I won’t work for racists. I won’t work for homophobes. And I most certainly will not work with someone who thinks they can break the law and expect an employee to lay down and take it. More on this later. Maybe. After I sue someone.

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Anyway. I’ve been keeping myself busy. I’ve been converting the loft into an office where I can work and not be disturbed. I met with the Usual Suspects at the weekend (Marshall, Sven, Ian, C) and had a grand old time out in the City. And, of course, we got to see the the boxes at the Tate. A lot better than I thought they’d be, apart from the Obvious Norman who, trying to look cultured to the rent-a-date he’d brought along spewed off stuff about High Priests and Churches.

It’s pile of fourteen thousand once-cardboard boxes cast in plaster and acrylic . High Priests? Do me a lemon.

And in leaving, a gratuitous pic of yours truly. In a hat.

Aside from the horrible pun, I’m back on form. Work has all but killed me of late. Leave the house at just gone 7am, and back in at about 6.30pm. Eat, check my email, fall asleep. That’s been my life for the last month. And the last week has been a veritable fucking-ver by my employer and my University. Data Protection Act? What’s that? More later. Maybe.

Anyway- weekends have been a bastion of sleeping in; of course, these days, getting up at 8am means I’ve slept in super-late. I can now sleep in, and still have a whole day to play with! In one such respect, this is quite awesome. As such, I’m going to try to make the most of tomorrow as I’ve stuff to do, photos to take, and art galleries to look at. In particular the Tate Modern has a new exhibition in the Turbine Hall that I’d like to take in.

And, of course, with work, comes the rampant consumerism. I tried. I really did try to not buy stuff. But I went a little mad. I caught up on my DVD acquisitions. And I bought Six Feet Under: The Complete First Series, Second Series, and Third. And then I bought Futurama, Season One. I know, I’m a sucker for DVD sales. And Sin City. And then, my Visa melted, and I was done for the day. And the day after, KT Tunstall, Eye to the Telescope and Takk…

And, of course, various gifts for various people. There were a few birthdays to cater for, and even a Mini Meet last weekend which went off rather well. And then I had a shite week and went shopping again, and chose to expand my wardrobe with a Sigur Rós Metal Sweatshirt. And a pin badge. And I think a new bag is in order tomorrow, too. Not sure what kind yet, however. Maybe some razor blades; it’s clean shaven or beardymat time again. Bah!

I swear, I’ll stop buying stuff soon. Honest.

Well. I also got a new Ericsson T39m in Ice Cap Blue. I really mean it this time; last thing I’m going to get this month. I think. Other than a new iPod because I’ve just sold my 20Gb 4th Gen Clickwheel. Oops.

No more stuff. Honest. But I did discover the joy of Dominos Online ordering earlier this month. I think it’s the best thing on the Internet in a damn long time. Not since I found Feng Sushi did online ordering and the spring rolls at Ned’s Noodle Bar have I been this impressed with anything I could order online with a Visa card. Apart from iTMS. Maybe.

I was woken this morning at about half six, most annoying on a Sunday. The sky rumbled a little, as if thunder threatened to wash the day out. It wasn’t until I finally woke, at about 10am, that I read the news on Auntie. Crumbs. I knew I could smell something…