Jenn and I *were* meant to be having broadband installed in our new place this Saturday. I dutifully got up await the engineer in the allocated 8.00 am - 1.00 pm timeslot and no fucker bothered showing up (and yes, I am going to name and shame you Virgin CUNTING Media). I rang the phone number from the information I printed out when I signed up and got through to someone in a call centre in a different continent. She was as helpful as her limited powers enabled her to be - sadly not very. She told me our installation was due to happen on the 20th February (a Friday), whereas my 'two dates of choice' I had to select had been the 14th and 21st (both Saturdays). Clearly their method of giving customers an installation date is by consulting Mystic Meg and asking her to psychically decipher which, out of every day in the month, is the LEAST convenient for an installation and then cackling heartily at the misery inflicted.

Re-installation is booked for the 28th. If they don't show up again I advise you, dear readers, to avoid London as it is impossible to put into words just how angry I will be, though I may go down to Virgin Media's head office and throw javelins at the MD's face.

I'm putting in a complaint regardless (I have to write an actual letter. Joy), complete with photocopy of the printout saying they would be coming on 14/02/09 between the hours of 8.00 am and 1.00 pm. I think I will have to blank out my large, irate scrawling of 'LIARS!' underneath it, and Jenn's 'A plague upon their houses!' but it'll hopefully get me somewhere.

So, we've been in the new house ten days now. I'm so much more happy here, even though the hot water's a bit funny and I never know what temperature it's going to come out in, often getting myself surprisingly scalded. We also have a slightly odd kid neighbour who, with his mother, lives next door and share a balcony with. On Saturday I was pottering about the kitchen, housebound due to aforementioned Virgin Me-DIRE reasons, and he came and knocked on our kitchen door then proceeded to ask if they could keep a bath in our garden shed for a month. Out of all questions, I don't think I was expecting that. Got out of it by saying our landlord is coming to do up the garden at some point and may not agree.

The weekend just gone was pretty good - Jenn had gone back to her parents' so Gaz and I ran amok, eating steak and getting pissed on fizzy wine here on Saturday and cooking fajitas and going to the cinema yesterday (Benjamin Button). Really quite enjoyable.

My trial at work finally finished after four lengthy months. Three of the four defendants were convicted of murder and are coming back to be sentenced tomorrow. In fact, by the time I'll have posted this they will have been sentenced, and boy are they looking at a long time.

Edit: Two of them got 30 years minimum, the other 32.

Also, one of the jurors wrote his phone number on a piece of paper for the usher to give to me afterwards. Ahahaha. What should I do? Ignoring him seems rude somehow...

I'll try not to leave it so long next time. I've missed this place.

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