Still raining

Top of the Hill

Springtime in Cheltenham

Shedgirl

Dangerous Tip

Half-team

Altab Ali Park

The bit of my desk that I look at the most.

Baishaki Mela

Brick Lane

Icecream Fence

Uptown Manchester

Flower power

Downtown Manchester

View from my hotel room

May Day in our garden

The last day of April

The Whale: "I didn't do it on porpoise!"

Respect, my arse.

So I came back from a (most fantastic) holiday in Barcelona to find out that George Galloway is in Celebrity Big Brother. What an absolute fucking tosser. His constituency is one of the poorest, most socially troubled areas in the UK suffering severe housing and health problems. He should doing the job that he is being paid for as a public servant, not pissing about on a game show bitching about the other freaks in the Big Brother house. Please support the “Why isn’t he at work?” campaign and sign the petition here .

Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve

I dreamt that a terrorist space shuttle spun and crashed on Cheapside. I saw it from the back window of a London cab. I dreamt that one of my college friends, a tall mad person, left a note for one of my staff calling her a fat, slutty anti-semite.

I took toffees to the office and got in the way of a building surveyor. A Sikh with brown gunk in his moustache wished me a happy Christmas and asked for money for a charity. I was late and burpy from soup.

I saw a prawn cracker in the shape of a duck on the pavement. A grey condom with a knot in it. Coloured paperclips. Broken orange car indicator plastic. An empty pen ink cartridge. A small woman with thin, flat hair and big eyes and gold cog jewellery, walking, barely moving forward, staring at the ground, opening a packet of Silk Cut.

There’s always blood on the street outside the Pepper Pot pub.