Well, today’s big news is that I’ve got engaged, and I’m extremely happy.

Someone has arrived here by asking if Walberton is a nice place to live. It is. I lived there for six months, and found it to be a pleasant rural village, with friendly if cliquey people, good local shops, and lovely local walks. The bus service finishes too early in the evening, so car ownership is beneficial. But a bike will do (it was all I had most of the time).

Humphrey and Duncan. Could they get to be as big as Weebl and Bob?

Life would be a lot easier around here if certain co-workers (i.e. members of my family) were less crotchety and more relaxed about life. I’ve yet to figure out how it is possible to get so stressed over the most mundane things in life.
I, on the other hand, am in a very good mood this morning. Life continues to treat me reasonably well. All I need is for Friday’s meeting with the Man From NatWest to go well, and I’ll be sorted.

I feel the urge to buy music. Haven’t bought any for several weeks. hmmmmmm. Decisions. King Kooba perhaps? The new Broadcast coming soon. Some classic Hooverphonic? Dunno.

Hmm. Very large (and mean) calamari.

Music purchase update: King Kooba’s NuFoundFunk and Mark Farina’s Mushroom Jazz 4 from Om Records. Result!

Am I the only one to think that Private Jessica Lynch will be as much harmed by the American (and other) media as she has been by battle?
Meanwhile, Matt is excellent once again:

Spam. A pain in the arse.
And I mean junk e-mail, not the tinned processed meat.
But what is this thing now with getting spam advertising anti-spam software? Do they plan to bully us into purchasing submission by contributing (by my reckoning) about 10% of the spam problem?
Grr.

Stop! Stop! Forget all this rubbish about the war in Iraq and the SARS epidemic. The real news this week is that Carol Smillie cheated her MENSA test. Oooo, the dirty little scamp!

Tomorrow’s meeting with Man From NatWest has been postponed and rescheduled for Monday morning. Gah. Yet more delay.

I am indebted to Dead Kenny for highlighting Jon Snow’s obituary for Gaby Rado in the Guardian. But wait! Isn’t that a little sideswipe at John Simpson in the first paragraph? Is an obituary the place for that?

oh yeh, I walked down the canal this evening. I’m going to try to do more walking to help lose a little weight. Of course, I immediately undid all the good work with a large serving of mussels in garlic and white wine sauce.

Yay! It’s Friday! And am I ready for a weekend or what?
The problem with this weekend, however, is that I have to do some work (again it is for PFE, so that’s not so bad, but it stops me from getting out and enjoying the spring sunshine. But hopefully I’ll be getting my shiny new laptop soon, so will be able to work in the park), and tomorrow evening I have to go to a family birthday party.
I’m not a big fan of family events, except when they are immediate family. I find that I don’t have an awful lot in common with many members of my family (my cousin Gemma being a notable exception, but that’s as much to do with the closeness of our ages as anything - unfortunately, she won’t be there as she has broken her wrist while snowboarding). I don’t see many of them that often, so inevitably I end up fielding questions about my lovelife ("so, are you married yet? do you have a girlfriend?" etc.) and that’s about all. Nobody asks me what else I might be doing in my life - they wouldn’t think of me setting up a new business or anything like that, because they associate me with working at the nursery and imagine that that is all I’ll ever do.
Mind you, I am probably guilty when it comes to conversation the other way. Most of the family members who will be there are retired, and what do most retired people do all day? Sit around, watch TV, go to the shops, prod the garden. They are not the sort of people who would set themselves a challenging hobby, or go travelling extensively. So it is difficult to strike up conversation - there isn’t enough common ground.
So why am I going? Well, largely to support my mum, who isn’t really looking forward to it, I think (it is for her brother’s 70th birthday) - although having said that, once her family get together, everyone else has to put in earplugs because of the deafening chatter. So Tim, Jane and I will endeavour to be sociable on arrival, then find a quiet corner for the three of us. And since the party starts at 7pm, I reckon I can scarper shortly after 10 to get to the Nags for last orders.

This story is rather sad.

Very big match for Brighton tonight against Reading. Both teams need to win for very different reasons. I have two predicitions: what I would like to see (2-1 to Brighton) and what I think will happen (2-0 to Reading). Crucially, BBC South have just shown footage of Brighton training, and, unless both Mum and I were much mistaken, it looked like Bobby Zamora was running around without problems from his hamstring injury.

Woo! Yay! and indeed Hoopla! Reading 0 - Brighton 1. Mind you, still an hour of play left yet.
UPDATE: still 0-1 at half time. I’m off to see if it is on the big screen in the Nags.
FURTHER UPDATE: could barely stand it in the Nags, but Brighton won 2-1. Full report here. Utterly fantastic. Blood pressure only now returning to normal.
Oh yeah, beer with Clive, Kearn, Paul F, Hamish, DJ, Luce, Ruth, Caroline and numerous others.

My mind is elsewhere.

Read Kitschbitch. ok?

A glorious sunny morning. And, apart from a brief excursion to the bank (where there was a MASSIVE queue - time for another letter of complaint?) and a planned outing for lunch with Sarah, I’ll be spending the day in front of this PC, writing forms and agreements. Joy.

Weblog News has launched. It looks to be both interesting and potentially useful to anyone interesting in this thing we call "blogging".

It had to happen. Someone has come here searching for Jessica Lynch + playboy. Get a life, saddo.

No joy for me in the Nag’s Head Grand National sweepstakes this year.

For those of us who will, I hope, always be remote from war, I recommend reading Jim Muir’s account of the death of his friend Kaveh Golestan.

Yay! A wysiwyg baby!

Of all the reporters in Iraq at the moment, I bet the Americans least wanted one of their own bombs to fall near John Simpson.

I’ve spent most of today sat in front of this computer, pounding the keyboard and searching for information on the net. I’m working on creating the agreements and forms that PFE will need in order to be able to function effectively. Thankfully, I’ve been given a lot of help by various people, otherwise I wouldn’t honestly know where to begin - it’s the sort of help that will almost certainly save me a lot of money in legal fees. As it is, I need to pass several of these forms, particularly the contracts, in front of a lawyer before I use them, just to check that I’ve missed nothing out and not created any nasty problems for myself.
Either way, I’m gradually going cross-eyed from looking at the monitor too much. Which reminds me that I was going to make an appointment to see an optician and have my eyes tested, with a view to getting some spectacles. More and more time on a PC seems to be making me more and more tired, and I’m sure my eyesight is contributing to that. I gave up wearing my glasses when I was about 16 or 17 in a fit of vanity (I’m long-sighted in my right eye), but now I think it is time to start wearing them again, at least when working. Besides, these days a cool pair of glasses is seen as a fashion plus, and I’m less likely to be called "four eyes" today than when I was the speccy swot at school.

There was a big fire last night near here - an old shoe repairer’s premises, long disused, on Northgate caught fire. I passed it in the cab on the way to last night’s family function. It was well alight, and I’ve just been round to take a look. The outside of the building is relatively unscathed, but looking inside, the whole of the roof is ruined and the inside is a charred mess. Judging by the burnt blankets that the firemen have left beside the building, someone was squatting in there, although I can’t imagine that it was a particularly nice place to be.
It’s a shame that that building, and the old Electric Cinema next to it (which was one of the first cinemas in the country) are being left to slowly rot into the ground. The site itself is a prime location - there must be some developer who would be willing to do something with these buildings to bring them back into usefulness.

Since when has the Rainbow (a pub on St Paul’s Road) been called The Happy Medium?? What a stupid name!

Blimey. I’m having a productive morning so far. I’ve

• been to the District Council offices to start the ball rolling on getting planning permission for new windows
• made an appointment at the optician
• registered at the local GP (only seven and a half years after moving to Chichester from Barnham!)
• purchased a CD (Making Bones by Red Snapper), and
• taken delivery of the CDs I ordered from the States last week, which have turned up amazingly quickly.

Now I am going to spend a few minutes working on more forms and paperwork for PFE before I head down to the bank for my appointment at 11.30, and then on to the office to get ready for a presentation I’m giving in Reading tomorrow night. And, on top of that, it’s a bright and sunny day (if a little chilly in the wind). Things are good.

Back in the old days, when you entered a horse racing sweepstake you knew that only the person who drew the winning horse actually won anything. Thankfully, those days are gone, and although my horse came in third in the National, it seems I have won some cash in the Nags sweepstake. Unfortunately, Gary wasn’t in the bar tonight, so I couldn’t collect my winnings. I’m sure my cash is in safe hands. There’ll be trouble if it isn’t.

The bank appointment went well, and the rest of the day continued with a frantic pace of productivity that lasted well into the evening. I’m pooped now, but relaxed. Off to sleep soon I think.

Much activity here today. Preparing tonight’s presentation, plus interviewing prospective new employee for the nursery this morning.

Well, the interview went ok, so it looks like we will be recruiting this lady, assuming she accepts our terms, and I’m not sure about that. I don’t think she realised that horticulture is a low-paid industry, and that she could earn more flipping burgers for Burger King. You really have to want to come into this business for enjoyment, which I accept is wrong, but is unlikely to change until product prices get back to the sort of levels that they had in real terms 40 years ago. And I don’t see that happening any time soon.

Last night’s talk went well, although it over-ran as usual, and was followed by a brief and late night coffee with Penn (as she lives only a couple of miles or so from where I was speaking), which afforded an opportunity to meet her incredibly cute and mad kitten, Dexy. Which has got me wishing I had a home that was more kitten-friendly than my flat.
Anyway, I didn’t get home until 1.40am, so consequently I am exhausted today.

I’ve just watched the pictures on TV of the American troops and armour arriving at the media hotel in Baghdad. Quite incredible scenes, with the incongruity of a US Marine giving a live telephone interview from outside the Hotel Palestine.
But I’m amused that at least one journalist still has his cynical head on, and hasn’t given in to the jingoism and euphoria that some others seem to have adopted. Andrew Gilligan of the BBC:

Nice stealth tax increases from the Chancellor, in freezing tax allowances - a sneaky, backdoor way to increase income tax that disproportionally impacts on the poor.
But it looks like it could have been worse in terms of business taxes, which is a good thing.

Bloody cold here today. Brr.

Whilst Rageh "Zoiks!" Omaar breathlessly reported the destruction of one of the statues of Saddam in Baghdad on the BBC reporters’ log page, Andrew Gilligan once again, took a different view.

I like his style - I see a good future for him in broadcasting.
(Credit for the Scooby Doo joke to Punt and Dennis).

It’s always worrying to be sat on a train next to an unkempt and unshaven man with bare feet sporting toe rings and lavender nail polish. I’m worried right now.

The big news in Orchard Street this week is that number 183, the famous Girls’ House, is up for sale. Which explains the frantic exterior decorating efforts taking place there last weekend. Interestingly, and ideally for stalkers, the details on the King and Chasemore website show interior views of the rooms. It’s a nice three bedroom house, yours for £230K.
So, with 181 and 183 for sale, the hope is that I’ll get some interesting new neighbours to spy on. Watch this space, as usual.

My new business needs a bank account. And a second account in euro. And a debit card so that I can do simple things like booking a hotel over the phone. Nothing too complicated.
So why do I have to complete TEN forms to apply for that?

Loads of things to read on the BBC News pages today - I’m too busy to link them all, so go find them yourself:

• Concorde to be retired
• SARS virus "here to stay"
• Ariane has flawless launch
• European Space Agency to send a swarm of satellites to investigate asteroids

Best of all, more from Andrew Gilligan:

Fancy a haircut? New Weebl.

Rather nice that the French get credit for something at the moment, rather than constantly be the subject of British and American ire.

Reuters: SARS virus identity confirmed and named in honour of doctor who first identified the syndrome and subsequently died from it.

Ananova: Branson may try to keep Concorde flying.

Interesting: Centre for Media Freedom: Middle East and North Africa. via the Channel 4 News site.

Grauniad: What about Private Lori? Maybe the saddos that keep coming here searching for "Jessica Lynch + Playboy" should read this.

Whilst all eyes are on Iraq, it is worth remembering that this issue still hasn’t gone away (along with countless other "issues" around the world).
Which isn’t a cheery thought with which to start Friday, I’ll grant you.
Meanwhile, I’m actually in a good mood, aided by bright sunshine outside. Whether I’ll still be in such a good mood after I’ve been to the bank, who knows?

Bank visit was brief and went well.
We haven’t had any Friday silliness for a while. Anyone got any bad jokes? And not the one about Saddam’s son bringing the shopping home in a box - I’ve heard that about 3286543 times already.

With FA Cup weekend upon us, it’s time for some AFF transfers:
OUT: Svennsson and Hasselbaink
IN: Geremi and Beattie
A little predictable perhaps. I’m not entirely convinced that I have the right players for the semis in my team, nor am I convinced that either Premiership team is going to have an easy ride, or even a guaranteed victory. But we shall see.

Celebrity watchers (this site gets plenty of them visiting, I’ll have you know) will be interested to learn that grayblog’s favourite Bollywood actress, Aishwarya Rai, has been offered the chance to be the next Bond girl. My sources tell me that the big stumbling block concerns on-screen kissing of Pierce Brosnan, something that most girls wouldn’t have a problem with.
All this comes as the lovely Ms Rai ("Ash" to her friends) recovers in hospital from injuries sustained in what is being described as a "freak accident" whilst filming last week, in which her leg and foot were hurt when she was hit by a runaway jeep.

Incidentally, whilst browsing the Hindustan Times (as one does), I stumbled on what is possibly the most ridiculous news headline I’ve seen in a while. I’m sure it needs rephrasing, or at least some punctuation.

Beer with Paul F and Kearn, with sightings of Malcolm, Sarah who used to work in W2, Dave, Gary, Theresa, Lucy, Alex, Ruth, Hamish and many others.

How strange.

I’ve just been to the optician for the first time in several years, and the first time at this particular practicioner. To say it has been a revelatory experience would be an understatement.
I was diagnosed with long sight in my right eye when I was about six years old, and wore glasses until I was about seventeen when I gave them up in a fit of vanity. For years, like so many other spectacle-wearing children, I was subjected to taunts and mockery and was labelled "four eyes", whilst my parents spent not inconsiderable sums of money on glasses for me.
I’ve just been told that it was a complete waste of time, money and distress.

I could cry.

I’m long-sighted in my right eye. That much is true. But it was almost certainly the case on the day that I was born. Consequently, my brain focused its effort on the left eye, and the right eye became "lazy" in that it wasn’t wired up correctly, and my brain focused on the information received from the left. This could have been corrected by "aggressive patching" when I was very young - certainly before the time I was five - and even then, there is no guarantee that it would have worked. The neurology of vision is pretty much fixed by the time you are five years old - after that it is too late. And because the problem is with the way my brain works, putting a lens across the front of my eye would have made no difference whatsoever. None. Zip. Nil.
My left eye works excellently, and therefore doesn’t need a lens either.

I never have needed to wear glasses. I don’t need to wear them now.

The optician believes that it is unlikely that I’ll need to wear them before I am 40, if not even later in life. His only recommendation is that I should have my eyes tested every four or five years - no need for testing more often than that.
He also went on to explain some of the symptoms, and things suddenly become clear. Because my eyes are wired up in a slightly odd fashion and don’t cooperate very much, it means that anything that requires binocular vision is going to be a problem. That includes watching 3D films through those red-green specs (never worked for me), looking at "magic eye" pictures (the ones made up from coloured dots that have, to me, always looked like a page full of dots) and, more importantly, depth perception. Which explains why I was always useless at any sport involving a ball at school. He said to me: "You’re not very good at catching a ball, are you?" Nope. It’s because I can’t tell how far away it is very accurately.

I can’t tell you how much this has affected me. All through life I’ve been living with this. I had the jokes at my expense as a child. I’ve had the problems with sport. I’ve had the accusations of clumsiness (almost certainly a product of depth perception problems). And now I know why.
If only I’d known before.

After far too many attempts, I’ve just succeeded in completing level one of Skybolter. Anyone tried level 2? Is it worth paying £1.50 for?

Beer and gin tonight with Kearn and Paul C.
And top marks for comedy to the person that came here looking for Theresa May porn. Funniest search in ages.

It’s a glorious day here. If I had my way, I’d be off for a walk for most of the afternoon. But, as it is, I’ve been working for most of the morning, and have only been able to take a short stroll around the city. Now I have to go to a working lunch with some French businessmen, which will test my language skills (they’re non-existent, as at least one regular reader knows well!).

Meeting went well, and my flimsy French just about held me up - but I need some help in learning more, I think. Thankfully, everyone there spoke at least some English, so we were able to get meanings across. Food was good too, and I didn’t have to pay, which is always a bonus.

Is it me, or has the BBC pulled Andrew Gilligan since they were forced to defend his reporting from a pretty much unjustified attack by Downing Street the other day?

I’ve decided that I shall spend the rest of this evening listening to Joe Jackson’s It’s Different For Girls looping over and over on WinAmp.
No reason. Just feel like it.
Meanwhile, Dave has passed a block of flats, and I take great pride in being the first to get in there with the obvious gag.

Hectic here today. Just realised how filthy my keyboard is too.

Why have I got You Picked A Fine Time To Leave Me Lucille going round and round my head? I don’t even know anyone called Lucille. Actually, that’s not true, I do know some of that name - she is the wife of an old school friend. But she isn’t likely to leave me, as I haven’t seen or spoken to her for at least three years.
And I haven’t actually heard that song in ages. Clearly some sort of mental deficiency on my part.

Ah. A good haircut and a gossip certainly improves the day.
In other news, I want to see this.

This is a very cool website, although it is probably best appreciated with a broadband connection. Maybe one day, when PFE is wealthy and successful, it too will have a site like this. (via Totally Flabbergasted).

Another glorious day - sunny and warm.
And another hectic one. Such is life in horticulture in spring.

Most popular "celebrity" search which is bringing people here at the moment is not Holly Valance or even Aishwarya Rai, but Andrew Gilligan. Balding BBC journalist to be a pin-up? Come on girls, ‘fess up!

Answers to this question:

• change your phone number
• change your email
• move home
• kill the dumpee

I try to help when I can.

Bumped into Nick T on the way home, who told me that he and Anne are expecting a little T in October. Splendid stuff! Congratulations to them!

Find the distance between two cities using this gizmo. Chichester isn’t on the list, but Portsmouth isn’t far away.

Gutted! My team was beaten in the AFF FA Cup! I blame Seaman - literally, if that goal had gone in, I’d have won.
Now I’m in the play-off for 3rd/4th place, and I reckon I should seal 3rd (famous last words).

It is absolutely fantastically sunny and warm here today - t-shirt weather!

On a night when it would be really good to go home, grab a beer from the fridge and head for Priory Park, I’ve agreed to work late. Guh. But it is work towards sorting out my new office, on which far too little progress is being made at the moment.

Cool game.

Charlie has pointed me to this, and asked "would you vote for her?" Well, I think she deserves some recognition for being seen in public with a pair of specs like that!

It’s been a long day, and I’m pooped. And no train to get home due to the annoying strike, so I have to hang around here for a while until I can get a lift back to Chichester.

Beer with Paul C (happy birthday!), Clive, Kearn, John, Ruth, Hamish and assorted others. A good night, with many jokes too rude to repeat here.

Well, in the absence of a girlfriend handy or anyone else to do anything more interesting with, I’ll be spending a fair chunk of this weekend working on some decorating in the flat, having a major tidy-up (including a long-overdue blitz of the hall cupboard) and doing some work for PFE. Hold onto your hats, kids, it’s going to be an exciting ride!
My mind is elsewhere. About 270 miles away to be precise.

Well, I was going to start painting the skirting in the hall, but got to thinking that I could deal with the hall and the hall cupboard at the same time. My hall cupboard is the last great neglected corner of this flat - all I’ve done with it since I moved in is to fill it with stuff that I didn’t want to deal with properly at the time. Consequently, it is full of old papers, boxes of ancient clothes, empty cartons that things lik