Time was ticking on so I had no choice but to leave keyless. I texted Jenn on my walk to the station to ask whether she'd taken them by accident. She replied saying they'd still been in the door on her way out.

The working day passed and Jenn and I eventually journeyed home together after going to one of the clerks' retirement party and then subsequent boozing with the press. We got back, opened the front door and...THERE WERE MY KEYS IN THE LOCK.

Now, we've come up with two theories:

1) In between the time Jenn and I left, someone/burgler got hold of the keys via the letterbox and returned them while we out, perhaps making a copy of them. (If so, why the fuck not take my laptop which had been merrily sitting on the sofa?)

2) I am going mad. I was in a rush and didn't see what was in front of my eyes. Who knows.

I think 2 is the far more feasible option, only on Friday Jenn walked past a police car at the top of our street. Then later in the day she had a text from a boy she used to go to college with (but hadn't seen for years) asking if she'd been in [our neck of the woods] as he thought he saw her walk past his house. And then it later transpired that this boy lives four doors down from us AND WAS BURGLED ON THURSDAY NIGHT, which is why the police had been there Friday morning!

Weirdness on a stick.

I've been quite busy. On Wednesday evening I went out and partook in some silent disco at the Science Museum. No, really! I also went out on Thursday to celebrate our Aussie head reporter being allowed to work here for another five years and Friday's already been given a sufficiently detailed account.

Other than that I've been going out on my bike with massive amounts of trepidation, and A to Z of London and even my SatNav and finding new cycle routes. I've found a lovely one which enables me to bike almost entirely along the Thames towpath. I've got as far as Kew Gardens so far but I'll venture further hopefully when there's no riverbank flooding like there was yesterday. It's nice being in such a population-heavy city and then being able to nip away down to the river and be greeted with the sight of a massive motherfucking heron. I love them.

I do miss Gaz, but it's more like an itch I can't scratch rather than an all-consuming pain in my heart or anything of that nature. He's been really great - we've still been texting each other and it's just been friendly and caring, which is just as well as I like acrimony as much as the next person.

I should probably stop blathering now, but if I don't include my Easter in this entry then I will never get round to it. In brief: Rachel came to stay, we went to a farm, for a river walk in Hertford and Ware, and to Sheringham and Heacham in Norfolk. It was excellent (and yes, I have deliberately not used a crappy egg pun).

Piccies.

I can't work out if I think this pheasant looks cute or delicious:

Rachelski and moi, sitting on a bench by the River Lea (not that you can tell...):

My rubbish camera skills. Everytime I tried to take its picture, it ducked its elegant head back under the water:

An innocent, twee riverboat:

Or is it?!

In Norfolk. 2p falls anguish:

One sweet shop's political correctness confuses me:

My favourite picture of Rach, at Heacham Beach:

Ah, that feels better.

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