Over the last few days, have been mainly doing the following -

Playing orange peel Jenga.

Leading pedalo revolutions on Battersea park lake.

Dreaming about vampires. (Manifestation of Ian Mckewan's Black Dogs - possibly not the most settling of bedtime reads.)

Consuming pies and pints in a Chelsea pub. How quintessentially English.

Walking about the canals.

Speaking to the mother creature on the phone.

Listening to urban poetry as outlined in the last entry.

Reading Blake - again.

Feeding the ducks in Victoria Park in the freakishly warm weather with Luce & Grace - again.

Contemplating change.

Contemplating God.

Making Burning man costumes.

Finishing Burning Man scrapbook.

Playing grime badminton.

Planning an adventure in Sherwood Forest for the last weekend in January.

Trying to deal with my unnecessary prejudice against rich people.

The mother creature is coming to stay this weekend and has demanded culture so I'm taking her to see Nobuyoshi Araki's exhibition at the Barbican and also the Persia exhibition at the British Museum. I can't wait to see her. It's been 3 months or so.

Randomly bumped into the ex in Leicester square on Sunday morning. I was not prepared for this at all as I thought he was still in Barcelona. Also, out of 7 million people what are the chances? Anyway, it was ok. Quite civilised and we chatted almost like old friends. It's odd how things progress.

This is the man that has, in the past, screamed insults at me which include the fabulous and original "Degenerate Ho". However, I am grateful for this, as it is my favourite insult ever and is not, to be fair to him, completely unfounded. I do sometimes behave like a Degenerate Ho, and why the fuck not?

There is a lesson to be learnt here and that is - Degenerate Ho types should not have long term relationships with muslims. When value systems are that far apart it's doomed to fail, however much you love each other.