A few things have happened this week. I got some slides back from the East people but the thing was that they had already been sent to my old address and returned. Which means that the two goths now living in my old flat had actually gone to the trouble to write 'doesn't live here anymore' on the envelope and send it back to Norwich. Which I thought was jolly decent of them. It's probably because I went round to collect mail one day (they had saved all of it), we got chatting and I clued them up about Doreen the landlady's evil ways.

And then a few days ago, one of Trish's websites got hacked. Nothing serious as it turns out- just some pussy hacker wannabes doing some low end cyber vandalism. But if anything else happens, I'll give them an online wrath.

Last night I was down at the gallery for what was my last opening as a member of the Transmission committee. More importantly it was my last opportunity to sit in the office and drink booze. We stayed quite late and did in a big bottle of Vodka. A drunk Charlie Hammond told jokes of varying quality in between throwing alcohol in all directions, Jane Topping kept saying drunkenly 'oh no, you can't leave' and Nick Evans almost cried. Not at my departure, at Charlie's jokes. For my part, I carved my name into the desk and made a failed attempt to drill a hole through it with a a corkscrew. But it is not the end of the road just yet; my last day in the office is scheduled for next Saturday and until then I am still Director of Transmission Gallery. Please ensure that all bribes are in my pigeon hole no later than Friday afternoon.