I'm developing a certain fondness for my flat, she says, just as she's about to leave her flat for Christmas. It's freezing cold, but only because I'm too much of a miser to turn the heating on (why waste money when you have perfectly good blanket?). And now most of the issues with the flat are sorted (although I'm still lacking a freezer door), it feels a bit more like home. And Nostradamus (who is really called Nerys) sent me a nice card. And my flat also has beams, innit.

And Chally St G can be nice too (I'm going to stop calling it Chally St G as soon as I get a life.

If I could just get broadband, my life would be a bit more complete. But no. BT hate me and want me to pledge my unborn children unto them before they even consider reactivating my stupid phone line. And they'll still charge me £170. HUMBUG.

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