On Saturday I moved house, still in London but out from James's in the Docklands to in with Reeta in a lovely riverside flat we found last month in Rotherhithe. I forgot how much I hate the physical moving of my belongings, as evidenced in the previous week when I found myself distracted from doing any packing whatsoever. On Thursday evening I went to the cinema and on Friday evening I went to the pub after work and when I got home at 9.30 pm I thought a beer would cheerfully help me on my packing way, which I drank one sip of then fell asleep.

I set my alarm for 5.45 on the Saturday and Ollie turned up at 8 am, ahead of my mum and stepdad arriving with their van at 9 o'clock. He gave me a slight telling off for going out drinking on Friday (which made me feel naughty!) and for not being packed in time. The move however went very well but I got another telling off in my new place over the vast, vast amounts of junk I've accumulated. Ollie was incredibly helpful with the whole moving process and assisted me with purging things I will never, ever use again though it was an anxious time and I found myself screeching, "Let me see that, it might be important!" as he threw away a small plastic crocodile whose origin and purpose were blatantly unfathomable.

It's mine and Ollie's six month anniversary next week, my friends and family love him but I'm completely in love with him and have never been happier in a relationship.

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