I'm writing this on a new Mac and I never want to stop.

My computer at home is broken. Broken as in making sounds of pain and shutting down the minute it’s switched on. Kaput in other words.

So I’m writing this at work. But not from my usual office. I’m working from our art gallery for the next couple of weeks. It’s bliss over here. I could live in this place. Surrounded by like-minds, surrounded by amazing art (check out Ewan McDougall – man, he ROCKS), surrounded by an historic building. What a place. What an amazing place.

My cell phone has vanished off the face of the planet. I last saw it in the sticky little hands of a crafty little boy. The best I can hope is that he hasn’t buried it in the garden somewhere.

I guess the message of this post is if you can’t get hold of me, it’s because I no longer exist (in cyberspace at least)(and only temporarily. I hope. Oh god, I hope). You could always try me on the home phone or come and visit me. That would be nice.