We’ve moved out of the nice serviced apartment that was relatively close to the CBD, had floor heating and various other niceties. Our new place is now a bit further away from the CBD, has more asian’s milling around the streets, has complementary pool and billiard tables, and looks like it was furnished by Emily the Strange. My room looked like all that was missing was a webcam and a tray full of $100 bills - the lampshades and quilt covers were red, the curtains were red, and there was a giant mirror overlooking the bed. Hot.

We got rid of that shit pretty quick smart, and now it looks somewhat respectable. There are a couple of niggles here and there, but otherwise I’m quite satisfied with it.

Unfortunately, we don’t have a phone line into the apartment, so that means less phone line and more mobile phone. Oh, and no Internet.

I thought letting go of the 360 was bad, but I’ve resorted to watching Weeds to pass the time. I’ve now got serious cravings for some sweet, stinky bluebell blend.

Since there is a distinct lack of non-contract based phone plans in the UK, my sister has opted to sign up with the Post Office phone plan, which was obviously put there as a low cost service provider for less financially able families. The only downside is that it takes 2 weeks for an engineer to move the wires around and make things work.

Add another week or so for the internet connection to get up and running, and you’re looking at Tim “all work and no play makes me a dull boy” Chang.

Anyway, it’s not all that bad. I’ve been exploring the environs…someone around here must sell weed?