What a morning - it's all go at the Caldrail residence. This morning, at the ungodly hour of half past eight, I was dragged from my bed by a knock on the door. Before me were two suspicious characters who cheerfully said "All right mate? We're just gonna paint the house..."

Well thats very kind of you. Just wait there will you?.... I'd not received a letter about this so I proceed to phone the letting agent who phoned the landlord who phoned the property maintenance firm who phoned the landlord who phoned the letting agent who phoned me but I was too slow picking up the phone so I phoned them to find out everything was ok. Right lads, you can paint the house.

They cheerfully nodded and proceeded to give a very original vocal-only rendition of Perry Como's back catalogue of hit singles. Think I might be tempted to make another phone call... When the phone rang. It's the electrician who was supposed to inspect the flat on Sunday but couldn't so he came today instead. In order to acess my premises he discovered that I was in fact upstairs, so another problem resolved.

The art of communication is not yet dead. Now of course I have to do all that domestic stuff like the shopping (I wonder if I should phone ahead... Maybe not) and asking the government to find me another job vacancy - which will require another phone call.

Except I can't because the battery has run flat. So will mine if this pace carries on.

Name of the Week

The electrician, in a somewhat mischievious mood, showed me the name of one of my neighbours. How could anyone be cursed with a name that describes the function of an orifice in the lower abdomen used to deposit bodily waste. I kid you not.