The Brentford Triangle

I have now *actually* moved to Brentford.

It went fairly smoothly yesterday with no legal hassles or delays. Things are still pretty chaotic with boxes of stuff everywhere. And my books are in storage! At least, my bed is up. The flooring is going down to tomorrow and books will be coming back on Friday, so by Sunday, the flat should be looking a little bit more like it ought to do. I'm hoping I'll get the blinds (wooden venetian ones) next week. It's going to take a while to get everything sorted out properly (cleaner, Sky, broadband...).

Went to the Ealing Park Tavern for dinner, about a ten minute walk. One of West London's finest gastropubs. This is why I moved here. And the eye candy matched the cuisine. A definite result. I had steak bearnaise with potato dauphinaise. First class. They also have a pretty list of wines by the glass. OK, the service is a little erratic, but these are actors or writers merely waitering to earn some pocket money (I am sure), so what does one expect? I'll be coming here again real soon. Going to try The Pilot in Gunnersbury tonight, I think.

The War Zone

Apparently, London at the moment is under a threat comparable to that of 11 September.

I don't think I'll go home tonight.

Or perhaps I should seal myself into my flat with three days bottled water and a case of Heinz baked beans with pork sausages.

My new flat is directly under the flight path into Heathrow.

Great.

And this has nothing to do with druming up support for the war on Iraq. Nothing at all. Of course.