Just call me Alan Titchmarsh

I was wandering around Homebase a few weeks ago, idly looking at houseplants among other things. Since I like a bit of greenery about the place I thought it was time to introduce a bit of foliage into the house, and with that in mind I selected a bunch of plants and some pots. When I got home I thought it would make far more sense to bring them to work so I could see them all day. Not to mention the fact that my desk needed brightening up. Since then the number has multiplied and I have quite the little desktop garden flourishing, as you can see. I even have a poncy little watering can in my desk drawer. The best thing is this little forest is not taking up any space I would otherwise be using. My next project is to try and figure out how to rig up hanging baskets suspended from the partition....

Ya don't say?!

While I was waiting in the tattoo studio on Saturday afternoon, idly flicking through some of the piles of body art magazines, a young girl of 19 or 20 or so was also waiting for attention, leafing equally idly through the catalogues of tattoo designs on the walls. She'd been there a little while when the guy at reception called out "pierced septum?" I winced at this prospect - who the hell wants their septum pierced, for God's sake? - and she trotted off to meet the piercer. A few minutes later she rematerialised sporting a neat little silver bar through the bottom of her nose and chatted chirpily for a minute with the dude at reception before making to leave and meeting her friend who'd been waiting for her, who raised her eyebrows as if to enquire "Well?" The girl informed her "He says it'll be wonky for about six weeks, but it'll straighten up after that". To my considerable amusement there was a beat before she rather deliberately appended, as if after careful consideration, "That. Really. Fucking. Hurt."

Got ink?

I've been threatening to get my narrow behind tattooed for ages. Figuratively speaking, of course; I wasn't going to get my actual narrow behind tattooed. Imagine how much fun that'd be to look after for a week until it healed. How would you sit comfortably? Ew, no thanks. I decided what I wanted ages ago and have been performing a convincing impression of a total wuss ever since, despite copious nagging and goading moral support from Gwen. Last week I decided it was time to shit or get off the pot and yesterday I managed the former. I'm very pleased with the results. Gwen predicted that once I had one I would want more. She's right (as usual).

Ink work by Klunky at Tat2-u.