SATURDAY NIGHT

Cheap, soft-porn playing on the tele and the cock, I mean, clock telling me it's time to go to bed: it can only be Saturday night.

As it happens, I went out earlier. I saw X-Men 3, whose plot-less stupidity didn't detract overtly from my enjoyment.

It would have been good to see my zippy Israeli lady. But she's entertaining a foreign friend this weekend. Come Monday, she'll be mine, though. I just have to think of where to take her for the day.

Were this not the UK, and were Bank Holidays not a cue for Biblical downpours, I would have taken her to Brighton, to the beach.

Wait a minute. Hold on. This is my blog, yet I'm not moaning or winging about everything and everyone. I put this down to three things:

After hitting rock-bottom the other week I've become more sanguine. I've taken control of my life by putting in some serious job applications. And I've met someone.

Three weeks into my relationship with Zippy. Normally I'd be stressing about how best to let her down gently. But this time I'm not, at least not yet. The nagging doubts appear to have been silenced. It feels strange, but good. Let's see what happens.