the yellow terrace and the kissing glass bird

Lara is moving in with us too now... I'm excited about this house. Propelling, exciting, creative electricity. What they used to call "good vibes" in the olden days before it was a munter party in a park. We're checking out a bright yellow terrace today with a white picket fence. With any luck the bedrooms aren't cupboards under the stairs.

I've also got a new rule: only speak about what I've done, not what I'm going to do. More mystery, less dissapointment.

Got a job at the Gaelic pulling beers, which should be pretty sweet- free music, actual physical work, it all feels so wholesome. I'm sure it won't feel so wholesome in a couple of weeks when my barwenching shoes are all sodden. But I needed something to distract me from the office, and, y'know, pay for the sinful lifestyle I've been leading.

My director Mr B and the production company therein have a new home, so documentary stuff is on the backburner, burning slowly but brightly. Which is good because everything else this week has been moving like a greased pole dancer.

the kissing glass bird-