Oh my. Turtle and I have been complete drunken bastards this week from start to finish and now that it is Friday I feel like crawling into bed and reading a good book, so battered is my liver. We have not had a hot meal since Tuesday so that would not go amiss either. I am such a bad wife sometimes.

However, I have a friend’s birthday to celebrate and pints to consume and so I shall toddle off to Camden in the rain like an obedient drunk-ass motherfucker.

It’s good.

Sinuses full and beer in hand I watched Michelle do a talk on the Flaming Lotus Girls followed by a short film “Viola de Gancha” involving flesh hooks, a viola and two of the Euro burners.

Longing and lust for that desert from the Serpent Mother footage were quickly quashed by plans for Nowhere (a technique that the Turtles are getting good at.)

Later, on the roof of a soon to be demolished space in Bethnal Green, stood round the burn barrel and chatted to a magician called Ecuador who was very lovely indeed and is coming to our party.

Made friends with two art students, Sophie and Tom, who know a guy who is growing geodesic domes in Camberwell. Turtle and I may visit to get tips.

Also, we are spending some time on OUR BOAT on Saturday, getting to know her before the move. Fuck it’s exciting.

Love this life.

Current courtyard installation at the Royal Academy. Fucking amazing. Sharp intake of breath as I entered the courtyard and was confronted with this awesome, ugly, despairing sight which has got the Academy crones chuntering about the way art is going. Nice one Anselm.

Later on Turtle and I were walking home through Gt Windmill street when we passed a brothel and overheard the very fit whore on the door (fur coat, pants and killer heels - excellent look) say to her mate: "I'd rather be at home watching Eastenders actually." It's shit working the graveyard shift.

Wasted. Got so shitfaced last night on strawberry beer with Boo, Turtmeister, Richie Roo & Manda that I have spent today feeling rough and eating everything in the building.

Apparently we were singing “I love the chosen one” (full version – see Boo’s blog) on the tube on the way home but I don’t remember it so I am denying that this behaviour ever happened.

The resulting hangover was rather a shocker.

However, I have made it through the day in the world of contemporary craft aided by my dear friends: Tomato cup-a-soup (x2), cheese and ham roll, griddled chicken, vegetable pakoras, dried fruit and nut selection, salad, salt & vinegar Kettle Chips, potato salad and chocolate éclairs.

Yum yum pigs bum.

Now, can’t wait to go home and snuggle. And possibly have a little snack, just to get me through the evening.

Wot a fucking excellent visit that was.

So good to see Pepper & Dougal again.

Had ice-cream sundaes and then onwards to Gullen. Plunged through a freezing cold gale straight into the North Sea, stopping only to attempt to fly Dougal’s kite. (Now broken.) Learnt the meaning of the phrase “sandblast” and laughed more than I have for months.

Went and dried our feet at Pepper’s Mums hoose. Enjoyed scampering around being nosey.

Back to the ranch where we played magnetic games and waited for my antibiotics to kick in before inventing a new drink (Collins) and proceeding to drink it pretty much solidly until Monday afternoon. Collins and its celtic cousin – McCollins - are now a necessity for Nowhere. Thanks to Dougal’s parents for supplying the Collins.

Ate bacon rolls in the company of the Sargeant’s father. (Sargeant Major?) an excellent chap indeed; reminds me of someone...

Watched open mouthed as Faithless exceeded all expectations and made it into my top five live performances ever, which is no mean feat.

All piled back after the gig, collapsed on Pepper’s bed and laughed our tits off. Bum.... Ba.... Chaar. Bum-ba-Chaar.

Was terribly sad to say goodbye to my burners - this geography thing is becoming a real problem - and also, this time, to the city itself. My obsession with all things Scottish is intensified with every visit. I like the cold, the gothic architecture, the fact they’ve got a fuck off great castle on a hill. I like that Leith’s there, I like the way the wind constantly buffets everything so that all the trees are bent backwards, I like Irn Bru, I like the glooming grey skies and the rough grey sea and I like the Scots.

Tick fucking tock. Got that end of term feeling today. The sun's out, it's really quite hot, and we are going up to Edinburgh tomorrow to see the Sargent and Admiral as well as Faithless. I am most excited. woop!

How amazing is the NHS? Cheap drugs (£6.00 prescription for antibiotics), a swift and accurate diagnosis and some dirty jokes with a Jamaican nurse – all in under an hour with no prior appointment.

Fuck the Daily Mail readers – I’m proud of our welfare system and yes, it’s failing, but at least we’ve got one.

NB – current illness and subsequent miraculous relief of symptoms after consumption of antibiotics has set off a whole new paranoid train of thought regarding the forthcoming zombie apocalypse. I used to always imagine the first stop for looting would be a supermarket, but have now realised this is a flawed strategy. We should go straight down the Whitechapel Walk-in centre and stock up with basic but essential drugs first. Or risk dying of a bladder infection eight months down the line.

This weekend the following things happened:

Turtle & walked the Thames path to Greenwich and perved on boats. Mmmm. Boats are hot, especially lifeboats and MFVs.

My dad texted me three times in a rage saying the bus driver was a “fucking bastard” as he wouldn’t let my Dad’s pony on the bus. According to my father this is racial discrimination because they let dogs on.

I baked macaroons and ginger cake.

Got very sad when Hagey called all excited to plan participation for BRIBH 2007. Just hearing his wonderfully pervy voice made me feel like crying. Came off the phone and frantically did some sums with Turtle. Verdict – there is no way we can go to the Burn this year. So..........

Went down the pub and got really really really pissed with Turtle’s brother Adam and Amy, his lovely Mrs. Fabulous bonding in the wenny.

Slept with the lights on all weekend as watched the Grudge and kept thinking Kayako was crouched by my ottoman waiting to pounce.

Spent last night drinking Polish vanilla vodka, shouting a lot and being sketched by an Italian artist couch surfer, Massimo who was staying with his friend Valerio. They were fucking great. I like couchsurfers. We should have more.

Spent Saturday night being romantic. I am most happy to have a husband who says things like; “You need more vintage dresses sweetheart” without being prompted. Marriage rocks.

This makes me feel homesick. I miss my brother.

A brilliant weekend where we all came together for dearest Boo’s 30th. We were raucous and shouty in the woods; some of us did falconry, some of us did class A’s, some of us fell face down in the mud a lot and some of us did too much dancing to shit music.

Parties were planned, old friendships strengthened, new ones kindled and history rewritten.

Unfortunately, a bit of a catch up in our circle of friends involves revelations such as:

“You know that boy orgy back in 2003 at my house? Well actually you directed the action with a G&T in one hand and a cigarette in the other. You make quite a good Madame you know.”

Revelations such as these make me uncomfortable when my own memory of such an event is entirely non-participatory, voyeuristic even. But I suppose it is nice to know I have a talent for such things. I can always make some money out of it if the world of craft fails me.

Oh yeah, and Turtle and I have our first floating nest. Yip! We move in beginning of May to begin our pirate assault on the Regent’s Canal. From one dusty dream to another in just over a month. Damn we move fast..... it better be worth it.