This is the view from my living room window. It might look like a Lowry painting, but it's actually a scene of death, destruction and violent crime. Shortly after snapping this photo yesterday evening, in a sort of "aw look, you can tell I live by the sea - there are seagulls everywhere" kind of a way, the big seagull in the middle, who seems to be the boss of my yard (in an Aisleyne from Big Brother kind of a way), fluttered peacefully down to within three feet of my window, and started hacking one of his mates to death.

Of course, when you're dreamily gazing out of the window, and suddenly see a young seagull (far right) being pinned down on his side, with the beak of an older gull (front & centre) around his neck, while an onlooker (far left) makes enough noise to wake the dead, what you shouldn't do is shout "Oh my god, there's an adult attacking a baby seagull!". Lisa naturally assumed I meant an adult human, panicked, started locking all the doors*, and was halfway to phoning the police.

Anyhoo, yesterday's post brought another gas bill for the previous tenant, who's clearly determined to be run out of town with as many creditors as possible behind him, plus a card from Lisa's mother, congratulating me on the move, and saying that now I live in Brighton, if I ever need any help with anything, don't bother calling her. She's got a heart of gold, that woman.

I spent the day moving bedroom furniture around in circles, before giving up and alphabetising my CD collection instead. It seemed like a more important job. I may not have been able to get to my bed last night, but at least I've decided whether albums by 'The 4 of Us' should go under 'T', 'F' or 'Numbers'.

I also managed to successfully poison Lisa, who discovered that my Rich Tea biscuits taste strongly of some kind of lethal chemical, after I completely failed to wash my shiny new biscuit barrel before filling it. Personally I see it as a handy diet aid, but Lisa felt that being thin would mean less to her if she were dead.

In other news, those two hours I spent on Monday trying to get a nut onto a screw which was clearly designed for something else entirely, proved to be time well spent, as this photo of my new guitar stand clearly demonstrates. Although anyone who says that my new sofa is too flowery for a man of 32, clearly knows nothing. I hacked two legs off that thing with a big saw, and you can't get any more macho than that. And besides, this is Brighton, and I'm living underneath a gay couple. I have to blend in.

Anyhoo, Lisa, who's too scared to look at my blog at work in case she's accused of accessing porn sites (I seem to trigger some kind of questionable content alert) (probably for incorrect sentence construction), e-mailed me yesterday with the kind of website that makes you glad the internet exists. You know it's going to be good as soon as read the title...

Cats That Look Like Hitler

I particularly like the ones that have the moustache and fringe. They're so much more authentic.

* who am I kidding - I only have one door. I have two windows though.