Welcome to a new blog. It’s exactly the same as the old one except that it’s tagged “uk2pa” which means it documents our move to Philadelphia (PA) from the UK (London). At some point it’ll probably get its own URI.

We’re moving to America in just under a month and we’re both terrified about it. Whether we grow old and die there or come back after a month in tears it will all be documented here. In essence the move shouldn’t be too painful except for a couple of things:

• Missing my family, who are all wonderful.
• Putting our darling parrot into quarantine for a month…
• The fact I’ve never lived away from South East London in my 36 years on this tiny planet (or for 4 generations depending how you look at it).
• We have loads of old crap that needs shipping.
• Our friends, all of whom we will miss to a ludicrous extent.

But apart from that we should be ok.

In the past few weeks we’ve been involved in social occasions that have had a finalistic air to them. That’s not as bad as it sounds because, as much as I love my friends and family, I really want to try something new, and Michele wants to spend some time with her family. Fair enough really. And teh internets provide a suitably convenient medium for keeping in touch with my 21st century family.

We both love London, and who knows, we may end up coming back in tears after a month, but I hope not. On both sides of my family there has been a presence in South East London for a long time. Time to try something else.

Regular readers will know that over the past couple of years we have been battling with mice.
Recently, despite a significant number of murders, I have given up the battle. Our current foe is clearly Mighty Mouse and deserving of some respect. His superpowers have enabled him to:

• Avoid all traps, both humane and evil.
• Take the food off of traps both humane and evil.
• Ignore the ridiculous amount of yummy poison we’ve sprinkled about the place.
• Managed to break into every full trash bag we place on the kitchen floor within ten minutes.
• Run by me three or four times a day, just to irritate me.

We were all ready to leave a congratulatory note, a lump of food, a Barbie glass of wine and a little cigar for him until last night. As usual he was running around as if we weren’t there and then going for a shit in the kitchen. But, last night I realised how he was hiding from me. To cut a long story short, I killed him with my fist. I’m not proud of killing the poor, beautiful, little thing, but it had started feeling like an elaborate strategy game, and I had to go for checkmate when the opportunity arose.
The idea that he was still alive and suffering is something I can’t bare so, to ensure his quick demise, I took him into the kitchen and hit the bag he was in with an old wine bottle, which broke into a thousand pieces on the floor. As I was clearing them up I cut my finger which means the little bastard drew blood from me after he died! Mousey, I salute you and apologise for taking your life.

The ambivalence and catharsis I experienced after killing the tiny, helpless little, chap, soon turned to guilt – especially when Michele discovered a tiny mouse in the humane trap later today. Maybe baby mouse looking for daddy who was due home hours ago…

The guilt is awful but I suppose nature is like that. He was shitting in our food! We let the little one go in a nearby park. Good luck mate.

Today’s second most significant piece of anti-news: George Orwell was being investigated by MI5. Of course he was! They all were. The biggest mystery is how it’s taken this long to come out in public. The most significant piece of anti-news is that MI5 thought he wasn’t a proper Communist…despite his “bohemian dress”.

Christ al-cocking-mighty we all knew that! He was a public opponent of Communism! Read 1984 if you have any doubts. He even gave MI6 a list of people who had Communist Sympathies! How the bloody, bastarding, fuck did MI5 not realise this ? It’s almost as if MI5 were a bunch of hopelessly ineffective fascist sympathisers or something.

Despite a couple of seriously OTT drinking sessions, leading to several bouts of Post Alcohol Depression, things are going well. We’ve managed to chuck out quite a bit of old pony (mainly via Freecycle and charity shops) and progress project Humph: arranging for Humphrey’s unsolicited emigration. In fact, if I’m being honest, Michele has done most of the hard work on these things. Other good things:

• The IT Crowd.
• Memento.
• Nice walk around Brockley and a couple of superb pizzas at a new place in Harefield Rd.
• Rediscovering the joy of The Spice of Life Indian restaurant in Lewisham.
• Rediscovering MAME.
• Friends – the people, not the poxy, nauseating mess of a TV series which appears to form the entire reaison d’être of Channel Four.
• Prokofiev.
• My dad’s good experience at the hospital.

Because I’m in such a good mood at this moment I won’t bother listing the crap things. You can do that yourself if you so desire.

The usual reason I have for not blogging is having nothing interesting to say. As an experiment, this time I’ll do it anyway – sorry. To make it easier I’ll use lists.
Nasty/irritating/annoying things:

• The whole of London seems to smell of sick, piss and trash at the moment…or is it just me ?
• Timewasters, crooks and ne’er-do-wells on Freecycle who have been causing us a load of bizarrely unnecessary grief recently in our attempts to purge ourselves of a load of albatross residue.
• Windows.
• Adobe and their fucking licensing malware.
• The cost of things these days…..ooooh…in my day you could have got double that for the cost of a toe-nail scraping etc.
• Everything to do with “business”, especially the hollow platitudes that spew from the mouths of know-nothing, functionary, spokespeople every morning on the news.
• Still failing to write to all of the people I want to spend time writing to…

Nice things:

• The weather’s been quite nice. Sunny, not too hot, you know.
• Saxondale.
• A call to help the U.S. Americans and such as the Iraq.
• A couple of nice hours in the pub.
• Nice evening, and roast beef dinner, at my parents on Sunday.
• More tunes than you can shake a stick at.
• Sorting out loads of stuff related to Humph’s move to the U.S.
• Nice things at work today: a good Malaysian lunch with my workmates.

No, probably wasn’t worth it was it. Oh well, I’ll wait until something interesting pops into my head before I write next time.

One argument in favour of Wikipedia tightening-up its editing restrictions could be that it’s too easy to make a diabolical cock-up. Like today, as a random example, I was attempting to create a new article and managed to replace the entire article on Buckingham Palace with my silly little page. Stupid I know, but it was all too easy to do. Of course, reverting the change was equally quick and easy, but the revision control means that my profound stupidity will be recorded in the Wikipedia archives until the end of time, or the end of Wikipedia, whichever comes sooner.

After I corrected this faux pas, Michele and I went for a rare day out together to the South Bank. The idea was to do a walk from London Bridge to Waterloo and then go to a Tapas bar that a friend had tipped us off about. Apart from the Thameside walk being massively pleasurable, I figured we’d get to see at least some water-based avian activity along the way. What we could never have predicted was that a bunch of peregrine falcons would be nesting in the chimney of Tate Modern, and the RSPB had established a stall, titled “Aren’t Birds Brilliant!”, with scopes set-up so you could see the birds up there! Funny thing that – I’ve never seen a peregrine falcon in real life before a month ago, and now I’ve seen two. This was the first wild one I’ve ever seen though and she was a beauty. The RSPB reckon they chose the South Bank because of the high availability of food there – mainly pigeons.

In all we saw:

• Peregrine falcons
• Some lesser black backed gulls (including the beautiful juveniles)
• Baby pigeons
• Some superb breakdancers [ Edit – that video has been removed, try this one instead]
• A mass Bollywood dance lesson
• Loads of tourists, like us

It felt like being on holiday. Sods law meant that the Tapas bar had to be closed, and so after a long walk, a drink in The Wellington and another long walk we ended up getting some mind-blowing Italian food in a pizzaria at Gabriels Wharf.
Mmmm…mussels in white wine sauce with too much garlic….
Niceness.

I’m sure there’s no feeling quite as life-affirming as the warm, cosy, joy of owning a Genuine® Copy™ of®™ Winblows®™© and the many Advantages®™©®™© derived therefrom. Especially today when Microsoft’s WGA servers are mysteriously out of action, which rewards all Genuine® customers with disabled operating systems. Of course, the pirates will be unaffected.

And in case you ever doubted that as a Windows user you are a tool of The Man™ then ask yourself why part of the punishment administered to a convicted software pirate was to be
forced to use Windows. That’s just inhuman.

It means “global harmony”.

Actually it’s not a real tattoo, and actually it says “fish balls”. But I wanted to go around telling people it says some trite bullshit like “peace and happiness” or “inner soul” in the faint hope that one day a Chinese speaker will realise it actually says fish balls and be too embarrassed to tell me. Stupid I know but it’s the sort of thing that amuses Michele and me.

It’s done with this stuff called Jagua which is a bit like a dark version of henna (it’s not so-called “black henna” which is toxic as all hell – and doesn’t contain any henna.)

In a follow up to the previous post, it seems the Canadian Police have wisely owned-up to infiltrating the protesters. All very noble except that they’re denying they were there to stir up trouble…we know that’s a lie you dullards for the same reason we knew you were undercover in the first place. We’ve seen the film!

Bush and his cronies have been in Canada this week meeting the Canadian Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, for the terrifyingly cold-war sounding “Security and Prosperity Partnership”, and so obviously there is a mass protest under way by the majority of right thinking Canadians.
In time-honoured tradition it would seem the police have been using Agent provocateurs to stir up trouble. Have a look at this wonderful video (Video Link) of a hopeless AP attempting to start a riot, before being outed by the real protesters as a cop and then quietly and calmly being taken away. He’s even wearing the same boots as the riot Police

Recipe for a traditional British barbecue:

1. Winter is no time for a barbecue. Make sure you hold it in the height of summer, otherwise you will not be guaranteed several light but drenching showers.
2. Rather than risk the inevitable arguments about which bloke should control the barbecue, invite a couple of antipodeans. All British men will bow down in favour of the, clearly superior, barbecue skills of an Ozzie or Kiwi bloke. If you can’t find one of those then in a pinch you may use a South African.
3. Invite a really good female cook to provide a shitload of posh salads “for the ladies”.
4. Buy too much food and alcohol and then tell everyone to bring loads of food and alcohol.
5. …and their kids

Then sit back and enjoy the half hearted misery that ensues under the damp, leaden, sky!

My sister and her heroically tolerant boyfriend hosted such an event today and wisely observed all of these principles. I have to say that we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves! Too much food, combined with wine and excellent company certainly does make for a good afternoon.

Last night down the Rosie was also thoroughly enjoyable and thankfully far less mad than the Friday before…