I'm assuming that, after reading about my recent experience, Rich has been playing with pictures. I imagine that the original looked something like this ...


And now the version mailed to me by Rich ...

A couple of kitchen-related pictures. The first one is our new discovery that the original staircase is intact and that restoration simply involves removing the 1980s wall that hides it. And locating a suitable bannister.


The second is the new kitchen computer. The freezer may have blown up, the dishwasher might have a mind of its own, the washing machine's on its last legs and the boiler's near death ... but we have a computer!

PC 3162 called round tonight to say that what happened the other weekend is to be put down as a 'detected crime' and that the other bloke would be recorded as the instigator. Apparently, he has no memory of events. I'm ok with that since I just wanted it all to be over and done with; which it now is. That means that I'm no longer on police bail. I always knew that it would end this way, but at the back of my mind was one of those nagging but what if doubts. My faith in justice remains intact, but my rather mildly positive view of the value of the Police has been replaced with a much more positive, personal experience. And the realisation that they're actually very nice people too.

My spouse is learning to speak German. As you may know, her name is Paula. There's a Paula's guestbook at the Paulaner website. It's hard to read, but you get the general idea.

While searching in vain for somewhere nice to eat in Preston the other day, I walked past a group of around 8 or 9 teenage boys who were sitting on a low wall. It wasn't particularly a bad part of town, but these sports-attired youths were passing around a carrier bag containing a large bottle of what looked like whisky. With the youths was a baby in a pushchair. It wasn't a very nice scene. However, it was reassuring to hear the proud father announce loudly that '... having a kid has really changed my life!'

For most of my adult life, I'd had no interest whatsoever in pub quizzes; I mean, they weren't exactly exciting and, to be honest, just weren't for me. While at York uni a few years ago, though, I teamed up with Ian and Richard* and for some reason we started going to a postgraduate quiz in one of the bars on campus. We didn't take it too seriously, which was sensible since with the exception of the 80s music night we came bottom every week.

A couple of months ago, my spouse** and I went to a quiz night down the three tuns and were instantly hooked. It wasn't anything to do with winning, particularly since we resumed where I'd left off in York and were invariably bottom or 2nd bottom. But, again, it was a laugh. However, something strange happened last week. We came joint third ... there were more than four teams too. Even stranger; last night, we won. Without cheating!

* A couple of splendid fellows
* Since she's from Merseyside, does that make her my scouse spouse?

While at the local pub quiz on Monday, the landlord, Paul, was very proud of the pub's halloween decorations. Someone commented that all the bar needed was a skeleton; like the one from Rising Damp. Naturally, I'd not have such a thing as a skeleton at home so I couldn't oblige. However, I did offer the loan of our corpse for the evening. The offer was accepted and our corpse made his first public appearance. Many people had their photo taken with him. One can only imagine. Apparently, although I actually left him sitting at the piano, his leg fell off while he was dancing on the bar.

It's been a busy few days. Busy. And hassled. I'll only mention the worst point though; Saturday. It'd been a good day. Nothing special, but a relaxed kind of day. Paula fancied seeing the band playing at the Three Tuns that night, the Acoustic Beatles. They were ok, but not quite what we'd expected. Still, we were having a nice evening. Of course it all went horribly wrong. I'm still a little confused as to how (or why) the night ended as it did, and it's way too long a story to go into detail here, but basically a drunk had a go at me. I did my best to avoid any bother but he wouldn't let up, then thumped me. Again without going into detail (and there's a lot of that), I thumped him. He was so drunk that he fell over. Because he'd (I'm assuming, since my glasses were gone) banged his head on a wall (or the ground), he knocked himself out.

Lovely, eh? Things couldn't get any worse? If only. Since he was unconscious when the Police arrived, I was arrested and spent the best part of the night in a cell. The Police were great (in fact, they couldn't have been better), but the whole experience was pretty horrible. The other bloke was arrested the following day, and the Police have told me that everything's pretty much cleared up, but technically I'm still on Police bail.

I'd really like a nice, quiet unhassled life.