I just got back from my friend Nick's house. He's the Visitor Services Manager at a 17th century stately home in Shropshire, which means him and his fiancee get to live there. I mean there's acres of estates, a fuck off lake, bats, the tiniest frog in the world and stuff I've never even heard of like a dingle and an auricula theatre.

The door on far right here is actually his back door: http://tinyurl.com/293g2m

LOLZ!!!!one time!!!!one time!!!!

I just spent a weekend watching heartwarmingly amateurish Shakespeare in the rain, and wolfing down large quanties of narcotics and continental meats, making puns about fir cones and the stilt walking shepherds of Nantes.

I'm not sure my aura of wonder and good humour could get any more nauseating.

I give this weekend the number of helium balloons it would take to lift a car off the ground out of ten.