Oh smelly carpet, oh smelly carpet...

I'm sitting here waiting for our landlady to turn up. She's going to measure the carpets (I just mistyped it as crapets and should have left it like that) so she can replace them. This is because our flat has one serious problem: it stinks. Stinks like a thousand cats have scaled the walls, slunk through the window and used the kitchen carpet like a flower bed. Buffy can't enter the kitchen without being hit by crashing waves of nausea. I'm a little hardier, but not much. So I've got up early to clean the flat and hide the rat cage.

Speaking of those-to-whom-we-pay-most-of-our-wages (is there a gender neutral word for landlord/landlady?), the Sheriff Fatman (obscure early 90s indie reference there) who rented us our last place hasn't given us the compensation he promised. And he won't respond to our emails. He is a big fat dishonest lying bastard. Does anyone know any trained armies of winged monkey assassins? Or have a one-way ticket to a North Korean nuclear testing site?

Buffy met my 3-month-old daughter, Ellie, yesterday. This was quite a big occasion and went very well. Ellie was pretty much on her best behaviour and only cried a little. Buffy didn't cry at all. I'm very happy because it means that she can accompany me to Tunbridge Wells now on Saturdays and we won't have to spend a huge chunk of our weekend apart.

I think there's something wrong with me. I quite like the new Muse single (playing on XFM right now). Help.

I am addicted to brackets (even though they make prose less elegant).

Louise and I have had a sniff of interest from an agent. I will keep you posted, but it's bound to go horribly wrong. That's not pessimism speaking; it's experience.

Still ill

No, not me... Buffy is still sickly and I'm worried. Whenever she eats she feels really sick afterwards. We think it's probably caused by stress. I wouldn't be surprised if she was suffering from some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder, after the year we've had. It's been like 'Nam. I am now doing all I can to ensure that her life is stress-free. Shame she has to go to work...

I'm listening to the new Killers album. It's very... Meat Loaf. I like it, but my albums of the year so far are still Razorlight and Arctic Monkeys. I've bought fewer albums this year than ever before. This is mainly because I've been so skint, but I'm worried that I'm finally reaching the age where I'm less interested in new bands. Eek! I never thought it would happen. I didn't buy NME last week or the week before, though I forced myself to buy it today. It came with a free Rave vs Indie CD. Rave! It's back, apparently. This is what happens, though, isn't it? Music moves in cycles, and when you've seen it all before it's harder to get excited. I barely even felt sad when Top of the Pops was terminated. However, I am going to listen to this Rave vs Indie CD and try not to mumble cynically about how music was better in the old days.

Anyone got any good album recommendations?

I'm trying to quit smoking at the moment. I'm down to four a day, which isn't bad. I want to get to the point where I can just enjoy one occasionally without being addicted. I'm sick of feeling out of breath and giving loads of money to evil companies.

Buffy has booked a hotel in a mystery location for my birthday. Apparently lots of celebs go there. I'm excited! Very excited! One month today and I'll find out where it is...

Call me Florence

Buffy (who has gorgeous new highlighty hair; see her blog for pics) has been sickly since Friday so I've been nursing her. This involves:



1) Pouring glass after glass of Lucozade.

2) Doing all the housework.

3) Not minding when she sits beside me on the sofa wrapped head-to-toe in her sleeping bag.



4) Feeling her forehead every few hours and saying, "There there."

5) Going to the shops and fetching nice things like Pick Me Up (who haven't published our poem yet), salted popcorn, make-your-own-mobile-buddy bead kits and the aforementioned fizzy glucose drink.



Some things I've done that probably wouldn't be recommended by Florence Nightingale:

1) Making her watch Alien and Saw II on DVD.

2) Suggesting that sex might make her feel better.

3) Getting grumpy when she disagreed with 2).

Okay, I made those last two up for comedy value. I am actually very understanding and lovely. As long as she's better by tomorrow... ;)

All the things that I said I was going to write about during the dark days of our No Internet period have been covered by Buffy on her blog, far more entertainingly than I would have done it.