What cabbage?

It's been a tumultuous week.

The relief of having finally found a place to live lasted exactly a day and a half, with the plan for 6 Cavendish Rd falling apart on Wednesday afternoon. On the plus side, the one full day of relief I had, was my birthday so it was one less portent of ill will to deal with at an already stressful time. On the flip side, it meant I was back to being homeless again and with even fewer days in which to sort things out.

Still, as they say, all things happen for a reason and being chucked out on my ear meant I went looking at 70 Bonneville Gardens, met Clare (soon to be landlady and flatmate) and now am back to having a potential home again - one I feel much more positive about and one that ultimately has more earmarks for success.

Friday saw me spend the day in Belfast, mucking about with surveys at the annual FSB conference. The city looked green and pretty between the airport and the conference centre and I've had an adult-dose of Irish accents which should keep me going until the next fix.

With new housing arrangements imminent, the weekend was spent packing things away and wondering just how much rubbish one person can accumulate in a mere 8 months.

Watched The Prestige. Twice. Yes, it is just that good. What's more, it's the type of layered film that makes you realise only at the end all the little things that you've overlooked along the way. Oh yes and the boys in it are hot. Even in magician beards.

Mad busy week ahead at work, painting of new room to be done and eventual moving in shenanigans scheduled for Saturday. By the end of it all, someone is going to be a very tired panda...