So I'm safely ensconced in my new flat. I don't have any carpets, or a fridge-freezer, or a washing machine, or a cooker. But I'm here, I've got a bed and an internet connection and it's all good!

Or is it.

I'd only been in the flat for a couple of nights. I'd hired a van to move my stuff from storage and roped a couple of lovely friends in to help me. Saturday's move all went well, we were tired but got pretty much everything moved in. Just a few bits left in storage and I had to go to my mum's to pick up a table and chairs. I got up the next day, only to find that some b*stard had thrown a breezeblock through the window of the hired van, and also smashed the windscreen. Glass everywhere.

Not pleased.

I went back upstairs and moped around for a bit. Of course I was annoyed, but also a bit worried. I was hoping that it wasn't a personal attack, but there were four other cars in the car park, including mine, and none of them were touched.

A couple of hours later I caught the dog weeing in the flat. At that point everything was still new to her and she hadn't worked out where she was allowed to go. Needless to say, I picked her up and chucked her out of the front door. Which shut firmly behind me. I'm sure you get the picture, the dog and me one side of the door and my keys the other side of the door. (This is obviously no-ones fault but my own, although I did try and blame it on the dog.) Despite being a skinny so-and-so, even my stick-like hand couldn't reach far enough through the letter box to be able to unlock the door from the inside so I was obliged to call out a locksmith. He promptly got a bit of plastic from his bag of tricks, slid it down the doorframe and popped the lock open. £140 please. Kerching. I expect any one of my neighbours could have done the same thing (not that I'm casting aspersions about the area in which I live of course).

By this point I've well and truly had enough of the day. I took the dog for a walk, hoping that would calm me down a bit. She ran in a big circle round me, the lead tightened around my bare legs, and now I have about seven inches of rope burn on my calves. Good job it's not hot enough to want to wear a skirt this year.

Anyway, I'm hoping that that was my three bits of bad luck that day (or, even better, for the whole year!)

Insurance to pay for smashed windows of van = £260
Cost to pay a guy to break and enter into my flat = £140
Cost of hurt pride and angry feelings = priceless

For those of you still reading, it doesn't get much better....

Before I left my previous flat, I asked BT to reconnect at my new place. At least I'd have dial-up... But when I moved in, no dial-tone. Eventually I discovered that not only did the previous owners disconnect from BT, they also removed all the BT wiring! I was informed by a nice lady at BT that they could reconnect it all free of charge, since it wasn't me who removed it. I just had to perform one test to make sure the line was definitely dead, which it was. I called back in the afternoon to ask them to come in to reconnect and was told that it would be £116 call-out fee plus an hourly rate for the work. I pretty much cancelled my account with BT straight away, but not before having a heated discussion with one of their staff in the 'Customer Services' department, who 'didn't want to enter into a debate about this' because there definitely WAS a call-out fee and not only that but it wasn't £116 it was £128 (yup you're really selling it to me, love). Right-hand doesn't know what left-hand is doing, anyone??? I was told to expect a final bill, which I could dispute once I got it. I said I would be doing so.

The bill arrived today. £79.36. Laugh? I nearly died. £70 for stoppage of services before the minimum term has expired. 1) I wasn't ever informed there was a minimum term 2) I wasn't ever informed that there would be a £70 cancellation fee (and for a service that wasn't even usable in the first place it's laughable quite frankly).

I called BT and told them I wasn't paying the bill. A nice lady said 'I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time', and let me off paying it. Dunno what she means by 'this time', it's not like I'll be going back to BT anytime soon so there is unlikly to be a 'next time'...

Ahhh, I feel better now. If you've read this far, congratulations, you're a good person.

Whoever would have thought that writing a blog would be so cathartic, and that moving house would be such a hassle.

Due to the wet weather and 'warm' temperatures, apparently slugs have reached record numbers this year. One poor sod found 1000 slugs in 1 square metre. Last year the average was 35 slugs per square and this year it's 61. What's more, they are about to BREED! A nightmare for farmers, and for people like me who hate stepping on the slimey molluscs...

Read the full article here, from The Times newspaper:

At least the slugs are enjoying the weather
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/weather/uk_and_roi/article2303151.ece

Ok I finally got around to finsihing off this post - looong overdue!

Well I spent most of my first week back after I returned from Morocco not knowing what day it was, so when I discovered quite by accident that it was already Thursday my glee at only being one day away from the weekend already was tinged with a smidgin of worry that I may not have got enough work done this week. How can I have been back for FOUR whole days already?

Everyone keeps asking me what the highlights of Morocco were. I'll give you a brief taster and some statistics for your digestion. Enjoy!

Highlights:

1. Watching the day-time activities in Djemaa el Fna transfer to the night-time madness, and eating BBQ at the meat stalls at night
   
2. The first taste of the madness that characterises the Souks in Fes: think medieval film set, or something from the Life of Brian, complete with full sights, sounds and smell sensory overload
3. The dark and winding alleyways of the cities that seem so foreboding when you first arrive somewhere yet rapidly become 'home'
4. The immense warmth of the vast majority of the Moroccan people that we met
5. The "dancing grandad" Berber - one of the two people I wish I had taken a photo of
6. Mohammed the one-legged taxi driver - the other person I wish I'd taken a photo of
7. The chilled-out Cascades D'Ouzoude
   

Number of hours spent in the air: 7
Number of hours spent on a nice air-conditioned train: 8
Number of hours spent in a hot, cramped bus: 24 (2 with a woman being sick beside me and her child on my lap)

Items lost:

• Shoes (last seen at Cascades D'Ouzoude)
• Passport (last seen at in Fes)
• Scarf (last seen wrapped around my legs in the back of Mohammed's taxi)

Items found:

• Passport (sent from the lovely Mr Chadhli, manager of a museum in Fes to the Honourary British Consulate in Marrakech)
• Chilled out waterfalls in Cascades D'Ouzoude
• One very cool wooden doorstop in Essaouira, bank wouldn't give me any cash though, so I need to make a return trip to buy it!