It's Peru, Baby.

Enjoyed (?) the Banksy exhibition on the weekend (which involved lots of reworked 'old masters' paintings and a small stinking room filled with rats), meeting my old friend Caroline and her lovely bloke for a civilised catch-up, and a super salsa-ing night at the little South American nightclub 'Tito's', but that all feels like an age ago now... it's hump day once more. I am absolutely living for the weekends at the moment, as work/commuting/life is so hectic. It's great to finally be busy working again; I've earned more this month than ever before in my life! It's just a shame that the terms are so short. I wouldn't be able to do this job for much less, due to that, and the fact that the cheekiness and machismo I have endured really do go beyond my limits of endurance. But, at least it's interesting - my life of late has been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster again. Even more so, as we are looking for another place to live, which I find ridiculously stressful. Where to live in such a vast metropolis? Why must it be so bloody expensive? Why do I feel so much like a little scurrying ant these days? A few days ago, as I was coming up at Notting Hill Gate tube, a man was shouting down at everyone passing "Londoners! Stop rushing around! Stop going to work! Stop moving around all the time!". I thought he had a jolly good point, though I felt I couldn't not go to work simply because a random mentalist had told me not to.