If there's one thing I like to do on a Monday morning, it's to meet with my broker and set up a new deal. Unfortunately, until I become the successful businessman my parents always dreamed of, I'll have to make do with the Scope Job Broker, and the government's New Deal for Disabled People. But I have to say that Lorraine at Scope was very nice indeed. I have to say it because I mentioned my website, so she might be reading this.

Being a service aimed at disabled people, Scope are naturally situated at the top of a steep gravel driveway, up which only Geoff Capes would be able to haul a wheelchair, and in an attempt to promote access for all, they keep the door locked at all times. Which they could have told me before I half-broke the handle trying to get in. But from there it was all uphill. Well, even more uphill.

Lorraine made me a cup of tea, I showed her my application for the Fort Custodian job, and she uttered those oh-so-familiar words, "I didn't even know Newhaven had a fort". If I had a pound for every time I've heard that one, I'd have... about three pounds. But Lorraine and I chatted about life, loves, laughs and lottery funding for an hour and a half, during which she described my application form as "excellent" (or was it 'excrement'?), and told me that due to the government's draconian anti-discrimination laws, I'm basically under no obligation to tell an employer anything about myself. Which is handy.

We got on well anyway, and have arranged to meet again on January 8th, when Lorraine's going to get personal (or is that personnel?) with me, and write my CV. Although by that time I'll probably have my own fort, so it might not be necessary. It'll be more of an after-fort.

Anyhoo, yesterday wasn't just exciting for job brokerage developments, it was also momentous due to the arrival of the shower on the right (I've cropped Lisa out of the photo for modesty reasons). Six months after moving in, my cruel slumlord (also known as my brother) has finally brought this flat into the 21st century by getting a shower installed. Having shampooed the carpets only last week, I was naturally delighted to have an electrician and his mate tramping back and forth in muddy boots all day to fit a power line from the front door to the bathroom, but the numerous dirty marks and thin layer of brickdust on my hand towels, paled into insignificance from the moment my new electric shower whirred into life this morning.

Although naturally I sent Lisa in first to check it was safe.