It is fucking freezing in the House of Rats.

This week, the boiler keeps breaking so we wake daily to a cold water wash with a background accompaniment of Helsy’s hacking cough.

I feel like I’m in the 1940’s.

January is always bad, but not this one. Only a minor slump in the mood this year. This is probably due to the prevalence of love, frolics, poetry and hamsters in my life…

As protection from the cold weather coming in from Russia, I have been accumulating a comfortable layer of fat round my middle mainly gained from cheap, toxic alcohol consumed on raucous nights out with the rats. Cunning.

My working days are spent wrestling with lists, databases & art world politics and dealing with Peers of the Realm and rich New Yorkers. The tension is building as our exhibition draws near and I am surprised when colleagues say I seem calm.

I am making full use of my leisure time; spending lazy days with the curtains drawn, eating sushi off the sublime torso of my very own dickensian rock star...and day-dreaming of kissing the dust.

It has been a weekend of rats respite, covert operations and top-notch blaggery including –

Much sleep

Much snuggly buggly mode in Helsy’s bed

Crying at the theatre with the Mother Creature. Dead babies, Handel and spectacular sets: ideal birthday treat for me - Nice one Mum.

Shouting “Ahoy there!!” at boat show goers and sniggering. Ah, the wit.

Chatting to the Mother Creature about true love & Buddhism.

Frightening nice people at the spa with underwater bubble spying and ambushes in the hydrotherapy river.

Dinner at Med’s – Mmmm.

Worrying about close friends

Finding out an idol has feet of clay and having to admit bad judgement

Relishing an early morning walk down Brick Lane before the Barleys wake up and invade

Eating free food at the travlodge and getting free wine on top – Nice one Hels.

Telling the barman at the travelodge that we were sea-farers and asking if he liked my pirate costume.

Clearing the sauna in under 3 minutes by speaking loudly and randomly about dromedary camels

Enjoying the best brunch I’ve ever had at Boo and Joe’s

Stealing products in the shower

Coughing, a lot.

Yearning for my beautiful far away boy – the urge to share every experience is overwhelming. Only three days to go, not counting today.

I am in love with Matt the Turtle in a way I didn't think possible. The whole thing is completely insane - cliches are relevant, nesting instincts are strong and perhaps, most shockingly, Westlife ballads make me well up and I like it. This is undoubtedly true love.

Hels has just complained that due to my new found love I have stopped writing weekly updates of her witty & intelligent remarks, so here is one she made whilst we were just in bed eating bacon and jam sandwiches and watching George Galloway sleep on celebrity big brother :

"There are no right or wrong roads, only different ones."

I have renamed her Dalai.