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.