Got to love the home improvement metaphors.

For the last four days I've been painting the bathroom. Well I say painting the bathroom what I actually been doing is trying to scrape off the horrid black mould which seems to have infested it. The bathrooms decision to reduce itself to nothing more then a glorified petrie dish has meant I spent three days messing about with wire brushes, sandpaper, sugar soap and a mildly toxic fungicide which left me feeling dizzy and a little bit sick, so a typical Glastonbury weekend then.

In much the same way as the recent plumbing problem led to much talk of defective stopcocks this latest little project has caused me to have conversations with my dad along the lines of;

"Well I'm very sorry but I can't get started until I get rid of this nasty little parasite."

and;

" If you want me to do the job I suggest you shut up and let me get on with it."

All of which does make me wish my house was properly fitted with all the latest surveillance cameras and listening devices because it certainly would have been one hell of a performance. Today I managed to finally put the first coat of paint on. As this is supposedly magic paint which goes on pink and then dries to white I'm excited to see will happen because at the moment my bathroom is looking very, very pink.

Not much else has been going on really. Robert Mugabe scored a shocking victory int he Zimbabwe election but as he was the only candidate that was to be expected. It was interesting to note that despite the campaign of violence and he only managed to secure 2million of about 4.5million available but that's all a mute point now.

The other vaguely interesting thing was the local polices decision to respond to my urging people not to centre anti-G8 protests in Croydon with a vertiable orchestra of sirens and rotor blades. Now freshly festooned with something of an emulsion earring I'm of to the pub.