How bizarre. I have moved to the south of England, and have no plans to return to the north, other than to visit. The ticket man in Liverpool clearly found this equally hard to believe, as - when I checked my purchase - I found he'd sold me a return ticket, despite my insistence on a single. (At least it only cost 60p more.)

While I know the north holds little for me, I'm incredibly proud of my northern blood and accent (although the delivery man who dropped off my worldly goods today asked if I was Irish!?!?) and I feel horribly upsidedown in the south. Oh well. In a few years' time, with a bit of luck and a lot of hard work, I'll have the cash to start fleeing the country altogether on a more regular basis.

And now for your weekly dose of smugness:

MY LAST DAY IN CUMBRIA

Sunday 16th was mostly spent packing, but I went round to say farewell to Toneh, Helen and James int evening. We satted and chatted for a few hours; then Toneh asked if I wanted to go to the cricket pitch and look at the stars. (Not like it sounds: he's gay.) Since I didn't even know my town had a cricket pitch, it seemed a fitting way to spend my final night of the twenty-odd years I've lived there. Afterwards, we ended up watching a few episodes of "Jam", a totally surreal but rather good sketch show. I got to bed at 2.30, and had to rise at 7.30, to finish packing. Another sleepless year seems to be commencing.

WHAT ZED DID IN LIVAPULE AND CANTERBURY

Left evil Cumbria on Monday morning and spent the train journey reading the brilliant "Herzog On Herzog" and Metal Hammer (which makes a lot more sense when you're drunk). I wandered the shopping streets for a couple of hours, then met Kris and Chris for further shoppage and a few drinks. Int evening, Chris and myself spent a few hours round at his friends Dom and Dean's places, watching bad TV (but is there any other sort?)

On Tuesday, me and Chris just watched more TV and messed about on the Internet and "Championship Manager". Ah, the life of luxury! If only it could last!

I spent Wednesday morning roaming the streets and visiting the Museum of Liverpool Life (which was ok and free to get into) while Chris was at work. We spent the afternoon shopping and round at Dom's, before meeting up with Kris and Wuggy for a few games of Go (on a small board, for any Go enthusiasts thinking that was impossible). The day ended with viewage of the now-hysterical "Bullseye" (an 80s darts / general knowledge program, in which the contestants compete to win some amazing pieces of bumph, compared to what you now win on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire", say) and "Only Fools And Horses".

On Thursday, I got the train to Canterbury. I met up with various rock soc type people briefly, so I could get the keys to my new abode off Sleeve, then met Soppygit and her new blokey, Peter. We went for food, sat around in Peter's room, and watched some episodes of "Family Guy".

Today, I unpacked my stuff, then headed to UKC. I spent a while with former classmate Teresa and my old tutor, then headed for my favourite computer room to read 300 livejournal entries.

It's not good to be back, too many people know who I am. While I was sitting in one of the colleges, writing a letter to Kim in Australia, a woman came up to me and greeted me heartily. I think she's the master's assistant I used to have to negotiate with when booking rooms for rock events, but I'm really not sure.

THE MIRACLES OF MY NEW ABODE

Last night, I got to see my new room for the first time. My fiend Jay texted a while ago, saying it was beautiful, but I wondered if he was being sarcastic. How beautiful can the least-desired bedroom of a not-terribly-big house be? But !!!!! I didn't realise the house had three floors - and I've got the whole top floor to myself! A garret! Woo!

ONE OF THE MYSTERIES OF EVIL SPORTSWEAR IS SOLVED

These days clothes designers have cottoned on (so to speak) to the fact that "fashion"-conscious chavs make up an increasingly large proportion of the population. Hence, the discerning member of the nation's scum can buy a variety of garments that distinguish him or her as a complete pikey.

Back in 1997, however, every chav had to wear Adidas trousers, all the time. They were available in a variety of stupid styles, the worst culprit featuring readily-undoable poppers right up both legs.

But, one day, my old sports trousers, worn solely for the purpose of PE lessons, fell apart, and I was forced to purchase some new ones. Could I find any, anywhere? One pair, in all of Carlisle.

In Liverpool, though, I discovered that all nasty sportswear originates from St John's Shopping Centre. A thoroughly scary place.

LI-VING IN A MATERIAL WORLD! I AM A PERSON OF FEMALE PERSUASION WHO SOMETIMES FINDS CAUSE TO BUY THINGS!

Since I didn't own a sleeping bag, and wouldn't have much in the way of bedding on reaching Whitstable, my hours in Liverpool seemed as good a time as any to acquire one. I even got a gothic one: black and silver.

My other mission was to buy shoes, as I don't own any smart sensible shoes, and will probably need some for any forthcoming job interviews. In my quest for them, I managed to buy three CDeez that were on sale ("Scum" by Napalm Death, "Black Metal" by Venom and "Choronzon" by Akercocke), the city's quotient of black jelly bracelets, some funky socks and "Simon The Sorcerer 3D". No shoes though.

The trouble is, I'm not sure what smart sensible suitable shoes are. I can obviously identify a pair that are black, flat and cheap - BUT! I get the feeling shoes are an indicator of age and class, and don't want people to laugh at me for being a middle-class twentysomething buying shoes fit for a chav grandmother. (Or rather, since chav grandparents tend to be about thirty, a chav great great great grandparent.)

But which are which? Due to my love-bordering-on-obsession of Silly Shoes (tm), I pay the sensible sort absolutely no heed. Heeeeelp!

I also completely failed to find a spiky dog collar to my liking. Why have they become so rare?