Everything I needed to know about life I learned from a shovel

The last few days have involved a lot of earth moving, earth moving, gardening and general shovelling. The countryside offers a whole new range of ways to procrastinate when you should be working. There is always something to feed, prune or stab with a pitchfork when you should be squeezing out more words.

I say working because I'm busy, for some reason work is pouring in and so is the cash (the final part of my advance from the first book arrived today) so I can start looking at motorbikes, actually I can jolly well go to a dealership now and see if something suitable is about. Hurrah. Also a national newspaper have finally decided to cough up the money they owe me after six months and that lovely cheque is also waiting for me in London when I go and pick up my stuff.

I think it's down to the shovel, a chap who is handy with a stout blade on the end of a stick isn't the sort of chap you should owe money, that's what I say.

To increase the bike fund even further I'm off tall ship racing on Monday so that will be another payment for the ol' two-wheeled fund.

Right, time to get back to shovelling I suppose. Those huge clumps of earth won't move themselves. Oh and for any mentalists out there who are thinking of murdering someone and then putting them in a grave that they dig themselves, allow a lot of time and take a pick. It's amazing how long it takes to dig a hole, even if you are fuelled with a murderous rage.

I'm just singing in the rain

Today is a good day. It couldn't fail to be after some job news I had yesterday. I've sort of stumbled into having my dream job, it's only a trial but they have said that they want to try me out first to see if I can do it and if it goes well there will be a full time job there for me.

This came completely out of no-where, I mean really from nothing and it still feels a bit well, unreal. It has made me offensively happy. Even with this military grade level of good cheer I couldn't do much to cheer up my chum who has just broken up with her chap. So I took her out for comfort food and beer, nothing like a bit of stodge and pints when you are feeling glum.

It was a proper serious relationship and everything so she is understandably upset. There must be something in the water as I've got a about a dozen chums who have split up in the last week. Which, on the positive side means there is an absolute plethora of pretty women available at the moment. The men of London (and other nearby places) have never had it so good.

I was supposed to be testing out some bikes this morning but they don't let you out when it is raining so I'll just have to run around the flat making 'bruum' noises instead, oh well.

Emotional Depth

The last few days would be best described as fraught. Actually that's rather over doing things, aspects of it have been fraught and other aspects have been marvellous. It's probably good that the fraught bits were there to provide a counter-point to the excellent stuff that's so exciting it makes my face hurt a bit.

And this is 'stuff' I really didn't expect, stuff out of the blue. It's also stuff that requires a meeting that I really should wear a suit for. Yup, it seems that suit was even more timely. Luckily I got this news while in my favourite wine shop so I had easy access to champagne to celebrate with.

Right, I have to get back to work. I have to write quite a few words today words with 'emotional depth' which is slightly outside my usual remit but I do like a challenge.

Unexpected Tuesday, operation popinjay and rollerskating with dominatrixes

Tuesday was a day of surprises, the day itself wasn't a shock but the events were quite surprising.

Sadly the editor I was supposed to be meeting cancelled on me because she hadn't been to bed the night before and was in pieces. This is a very honourable reason for cancelling, and she has promised to make it up to me so that is fine.

Now that I no-longer had to be sparkling with foppishness in my best waistcoat I changed into a pleasant but unassuming jumper and trotted off to work. This trotting took longer than planned because for some inexplicable reason I got on entirely the wrong bus and I ended up seeing parts of West London that I doubt any outsider has seen for thousands of years. After seeing dinosaurs and packs of proto-humans I managed to finally get on a bus going in vaguely the right direction and made it to Soho.

The office was it's usual fun place, although the main woman was a bit subdued because we are being sued for saying something that is true but the person who told it to us has disappeared. What makes it even more annoying is the person we said it about appeared on T.V. a few days ago and the presenter said even worse things in the same vein but that was okay because the presenter is a shouty chef.

Oh and my piece appeared in the newspaper but sadly the word Popinjay had been removed. On the plus side they had let me include a big plug for my next stand-up show but I shall miss Popinjay. Perhaps I'll get it in some other time.

After work I went with my colleague for a couple of cheeky cocktails at a members club on Shaftsbury Avenue. I had the vodka espresso and she dabbled with the lime Margareta, after those we saw off most of a bottle of champagne while plotting revenge on the person suing us and then came up with an idea for a travel show. Which reminds me I should be writing that right now.

Plinking with merriment after a good dose of nonsense and champers we spilled onto the street and went our separate ways. I decided that I would walk home from Soho as it was a good clear night and I wanted to get to know London again. The stroll was very pleasant. I took in Sloane Street and the King's Road which have both changed a great deal since Chelsea was my stomping ground and this time the walk home passed in a flash. Perhaps thanks to listening to the Mighty Boosh radio show.

When I got home I was still a little bit drunk but it was time for some more moving so I helped my flatmate unload more things from her car and then take the bins out.

Just before I lowered my head on the pillow I got two text messages out of the blue, both offering adventure and excitement.

1) H asked me if I wanted to go camping in the Arctic, sponsored by some car company

2) A Dominatrix I know, the only one I've ever got on with asked me rollerskating for her friends birthday tonight.

The Principality of Monaco

Last night Europe's favourite principality paid for me to get rather drunk under the guise of talking about hotels. The bash was held in the Prince's new offices just off Park Lane, each room had been converted to have a different theme and T.P. and I swanned around drinking champagne and asking questions. The canapes were excellent and they even had lines of chocolate powder for you to suck up with a straw, who thinks up these things?

After that we went to a bar for drinks to mark a friends 30th. As the T.P. pointed out it was a rather strange 30th as I was the woman's only friend who she didn't work with there which struck T.P. as a little bizarre. What a depressing thing to happen on a birthday.

It's almost as depressing as being unable to get a 95th Rifles jacket in your size, almost.

Smart Cars, Tanks and old coats

I put on an old coat today, it's a double breasted affair that I've not worn for months, some time last year really. It's pockets were full of junk so it was like going back in time. There were receipts from bars I can't remember going to and a business card for 'Ruth' that had 'call me' on the back in red pen. Of course I chucked it all in the bin, or the recycling box to be exact, but it made me smile.

I also had my first go in a smart car today, one that looks almost exactly like the one in the picture, I'm borrowing it off a friend to drive up north to mess around in tanks for a newspaper. I like the idea of turning up to a tank battle in a Smart Car, it seems plucky and faintly rediculous. That's me almost exactly.

Charlie on a bike

I'm having one of the bad days. It's partly my own fault for trying to write about things to do with my dad, just a few words can turn me into a mess. Still it's all part of the process.

Anyway, here is a picture of my dad when he was at Eton, this photo appeared in the national papers and got him in quite a bit of trouble.

I think it's a brilliant photo, it's sort of a symbol of what was fun about my dad.