Moved everything out of the flat yesterday, handed in the keys and moved all of my stuff home and into my studio. It all went smoothly apart from, as expected, having more junk than I calculated for. And also having at least two completely new sub-categories of junk. But it's all done now and I can relax (on someone else's sofa).

News just in: Some dick is #1 on Google for 'gregor wright' just because he's got a big car. That bastard will rue the day...

The fish made it home okay. None of them died in transit and they look like they'll settle in to their new tank. I'm sure they'll love Kilmarnock. It's a really nice place if you're not from there. (None of the fish happen to be indigenous to Kilmarnock).

Put them into The Kilmarnock Tank and went down town to buy some food for them, from 'The Pet Shop'- which is what the shop is and also happens to be the name of the shop. The Pet Shop.
On the way I bumped into one of my cousins who was out walking her offspring (three of), none of whom I can remember meeting before, and their names escape me. But it was nice to see them on the way to the The Pet Shop.

Then I came home and tried to pack up my stuff. Which was really bad because I'm quite possessive and territorial about My Stuff. So I went round in circles for a while and tried my best to avoid doing as much as possible, then went out for a drink with Jim which was good. But now I need to get up tomorrow and and sort everything out. Everything I'm going to keep and everything I'm going to throw out. I hate throwing anything out but I have to, so tomorrow I'm going to make an inventory.

Today I went to the building society with my mum. Not to open up a juniour saver account and get a free balloon. Oh no, it was much scarier and more important than that. We sat in a wee see-through fronted office, answering questions and signing forms. The whole process was fairly painless, much like buying a mobile phone or hiring a car. Apart from the fact that by the time I left, I had borrowed tens of thousands of pounds.

So now it looks like I've got myself a nice wee flat. I've been keeping it quiet and holding my breath about it for a while now but it looks as if I can finally exhale. Which I fully intend to do just as soon as I get my grubby paws on the keys. I've got my grandparents to thank for leaving me some cash and allowing me to get my own roof over my head. And the fact that I will no longer be lining some landlord's pocket does nothing but fill me with glee.

Tomorrow I have to start packing despite having expertly avoided the issue for days now. It should be a good opportunity to get rid of a lot of crap. (So that I can accumulate new crap). And I need to move some of it to my studio and some of it home. Then I'm going to be homeless for nine days(!) Luckily The Old Dears have agreed to take custody of my fish.

The fish

Three neon tetras (Colourful and cheery looking).
A Siamese fighting fish (Very friendly- you can stroke him).
A Glassfish (Moves about all stop-start-stop).
Three Ghost Catfish (Weirdoes- look like skeletons- totally see-through).
A Plecostomus Catfish (Sucker-mouthed with a huge fin).

I've been thinking about how to leave the flat before I go. Not as in hoovering and stuff, as in showing Doreen my gratitude for being kind enough to treat us as if we've been camping out in her house. I was trying to think about some way of throwing a spanner in the works without pissing off the people who are going to move in. I thought about somehow planting some kind of seed under the floorboards that would eventually grow into a healthy and giant tenement-cleaving tree. But that would probably involve installing some sort of expensive underfloor lighting and sprinkler system. I thought about rats too but maybe they wouldn't like it so I'm thinking about woodworm. If you can get diet pills, pepper spray and Xanax on the net, you must be able to get some woodworm. A liberal sprinkling of those wee chaps on the supporting timbers and its game over. In ten years time you'll be able to sweep the Nut residence into a bin bag.

Went out for some drinks last night for Kate's birthday. After spending most of the day in front of my computer it was good to get out but I was in a funny mood. Ended up drinking cans in a park with Alex Pollard and Craig Mulholland. Then came home.

Before I went out I ate spaghetti hoops on toast but they tasted of potatoes which struck me as unusual.

I felt dizzy for most of today and then the old lady from upstairs that worries about plants came to the door. There was water coming into her kitchen from the flat upstairs (lots of water) but nobody was in and she didn't know what to do. So I got one of those big metal key things and turned the water off from the street. Then I told her not to go into her kitchen because the ceiling looked like it was going to fall in. I also told her not to worry too much. Then she came down later because her kitchen ceiling had, as predicted, caved in. She said it almost took her out because she was trying to empty one of the buckets that were catching the water. She's lucky a washing machine didn't come crashing through the ceiling and crush her. So I reassured her and she offered me a scone. I said thanks but turned it down because I felt dizzy and hungover. I don't know what it is with old ladies having narrow escapes from falling objects at the moment.