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I just saw my flat on the telly, some slightly pretentious thing on the ABC about emerging artists. I was watching this girl who takes polaroids and makes felt badges talking and I recognised my kitchen. All the flats in this building and the one opposite are identical, I recognised our landing and front door as well. So I live near a cute felt badge making artist who in her own words "like to read fat books." Which brings me nicely to my next point. I too am reading a fat book myself, Charles Dickens' Bleak House, 990 pages of small print, few pictures. I have been labouring away at this for quite a while, determined to actually read some Dickens rather than waiting for a lavish BBC drama version. And now I find the ABC are showing just such a drama starting this Sunday. So I urgently need to finish the book before the TV version starts, or I never will and I have spent too much time on it to give up now. I have 4 days and 330 pages to go. So far not bad, lots of nasty money grubbing lawyers and a pock-scarred herione in distress.

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