I am overwhelmed with excitement regarding the seasonal change. The lifestyle we have chosen lends itself well to the onset of winter. Went cruising on Sunday. Hels, Ali G and I sipped on wine by the woodburning stove all gossipy and contented, whilst the pork crackled in the oven. Outside, the rain poured down (on Captain Turtle at the tiller - brave hero that he is ) and the grey canal drifted by.

Boudicca moves to Exeter this week. As another Rat leaves London where we have been so safe and happy for so long, I am pleased that I have finally realised that our most important relationships do not end as we change the direction of our lives - they simply adjust.

So here's a rather large, scrumpy flavoured toast to Boo and Joe, the next stage in the Seven Ages of man (Justice), and the West Country.

PMT + Fahrenheit 9/11: One very unhappy, sobbing, soggy Muffin.

Oestrogen is an interesting hormone. Last time I watched that film I fell asleep, bored. This time I cried uncontrollably from the moment the black people got ignored until the credits rolled.

Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns left me incandescent with rage. I know I should leave Islam alone - due to past relationships it remains a personal issue for me – but I just keep picking at it.

The proverbial scab that won’t heal.