HAPPY LEAP DAY!

I think the Leap Day that occurs once every four years should be a holiday, don't you? It's a unique day: a "catch-up" day because the mathematics of a 365-day year doesn't quite match the physics of the earth's orbit around the sun. I think that deserves a public holiday; that way I could catch up on the sleep I've missed because the mathematics of working all day and socialising in the evening doesn't quite match the physics of requiring 8 hours of rest every night.

I've been very slack in writing since I moved back to London. Partly it's because life has been so hectic. I've been looking for a job and a flat, catching up with friends, trying to enjoy all that London life has to offer (to those on a modest budget at least) and doing all this while flitting around between friends' sofas while I wait for my new room to become vacant. The other reason I've been so slow at writing is because now that I'm settling back into normal life I assume that I don't have anything interesting to say. Being on holidays is one thing, I can convince myself that someone might like to read about my adventures in Slovakia or Abu Dhabi, but who really cares if I found a great new place for a massage today, or that I helped a guy who fell down the Underground stairs during peak hour, or that I learned the Polish work for "f*ck off"?

I think in order to blog you need to have a pretty big ego; to assume that people care about your thoughts and opinions. I don't have a big ego, but I guess I can just pretend that I'm writing to my sister and that will make it seem a little less self-indulgent. I'll see how that works out:

So, dear sister, what have I been up to these last few weeks I hear you ask? Well apart from watching Camden burn to the ground, I've been going to the theatre, doing walks both in London and out in the countryside, hanging out with friends, drinking in pubs, proofing and editing my mate's first novel, joining in as a member of the studio audience for a BBC4 quiz show, catching up on series two of Doctor Who and checking out the hot Polish labourers who come into the office where I'm temping. And no it wasn't one of them who told me to f*ck off.

Being back in London is O for Awesome (Kiwi in-joke there) and I'm trying my damnedest to arrange my work and financial situation in such a way that will allow me to switch to a longer-term visa before my current one expires next February. A pox upon all of you with British Ancestry visas or EU passsports!! I hope to have some good job news in the next week or so - will keep you posted.

CAMDEN TOWN IS BURNING DOWN

I definitely coined that phrase before Amy Winehouse blabbed it during her Grammy acceptance speech. It was while I was standing in the street, mouth open, staring at the flames leaping 30 metres in the air as the Camden markets burned. Some friends and I had arranged to meet up for drinks there last night. I was in the West End eating dinner with one of them when we got a text from another saying that there was a big fire in Camden. Fearing that they'd close down the tube and I'd miss out on drinking the night away at my favourite pub, we high-tailed it over there asap. Stepping outside the tube station I saw just how big the fire was, and these photos don't come close to doing it justice. It was awesome. My inner pyromaniac was enjoying every second of it; while one mate was cautioning me to stay back because it was "dangerous", I was itching to race closer and snap some photos before the cops and firemen pushed back the crowds. It was sooo not dangerous, we were at least two blocks away. Eventually the cops did close down the street so we went to the pub as planned. A nice little distraction, and just like the time I revelled in the building across the road from my office collapsing into the street last year I feel a guilt-free pleasure in enjoying this spectacle of destruction because nobody was injured. Damn London is fun.