BERMONDSEY STREET FROSTED (who says it hardly ever snows in London?)

SERENITY NOW

Ok, since returning from Malta, I’ve done absolutely nothing of interest apart from sample another pub older than the Australian colonies (Southwark Tavern at the Borough Markets) and shoot around at the local outdoor basketball court in zero degree temperatures one night last week – with flocks of unseen birds singing in the trees all around in the darkness, strangely enough (aren’t they all supposed to be working on their tans on African beaches right now? G'day climate change).

No-one I knew was doing anything for Australia Day here last weekend (I could've wandered over to such vomit-encrusted delights as The Church or one of the Walkabout Pubs, but I've done all the mixing with verminous YAABs as I'm ever going to voluntarily do), and nothing major was organised, so I didn’t bother doing anything for it. Would've like to, but this place is like a big wet blanket on the Fun Fire right now. Sounds like everyone at Burleigh got an absolutely tremendous show on Oz Day, though.

So anyway, above are just some piccies of my street that I’ve been meaning to throw on here. My place is in the bottom picture, second set of windows up on the corner of the far building.

Hmm what else can I report on here? Well, my morbid fascination with the collapse of the entire United Kingdom continues to grow. The Good Ship HMAS Brittania is sinking, and sinking fast. Don't know the full horror is being communicated to everyone in Oz or Canada or the US, but suffice it to say that when the IMF says the UK is going to get the biggest smackdown out of all Western countries, you can bet things aren't exactly smelling like roses here at the mo'.

Every single day brings news of another 1000-or-so job losses, as yet another company slips under the chilly administrator’s blanket-of-no-return with a puzzled frown and a last gasp of redundancies. Every day the blame is sprayed around like grapeshot by anyone with access to a microphone or an editor – it’s the government’s fault, it’s the banks’ fault, it’s the real estate agents’ fault, it’s the developers’ fault, it’s the consumers’ fault. Work colleagues sporting frazzled expressions and fingernails well into negative growth territory regularly take me aside in the photocopier room and quietly-yet-earnestly tell me of their desire to escape overseas and ask how Australia's economy is holding up.

But the Finger O' Blame is increasingly being pointed squarely at The Grin That Walks, former PM Tony Blair, and his dark shadow of a Chancellor at the time, current PM Gordie, for championing the freedom of the markets and refusing to intervene in the feeding frenzy at the trough. And every day the UK looks more and more like it’s going to implode. Come soon for the bargains!

At work, it’s just going from the pitiful to the utterly ridiculous. I work on the 18th (top) floor, which only has 3 general use meeting rooms for about 100 people. One of these is a big conference room that seats around 20, and has a huge wall of windows with expansive 180-degree views north all the way into central London and beyond – you can see the Millennium Dome, Wembley Stadium, the towers of Canary Wharf , Big Ben, St Paul ’s Cathedral etc quite clearly – and it’s usually booked. The Powers-That-Be decided today that this is to be the Council's Serenity Room. That’s right, Serenity Room. Aussies across the organization have been trading Kerrigan and The Castle jokes allllllllllllllllllllll day (“Smell that? Two stroke”).

The workmen came and yanked out all the furniture this morning and no-one knew what was going on. Then we were told indirectly that it had become a Serenity Room by order of the CEO, who, it was breathlessly claimed, reportedly told Building Management's manager "I don't care which room you stick it in, just pick one". Then we later found out indirectly that "Serenity Room" was actually another term for a Multi-Faith Prayer Room, so then the email jibes reached fever pitch.

But the old regulars in my section are utterly outraged – so much so you’d think someone had told them they now have to wear burqas and curly-toed slippers to work. Scandal and outrage. My manager, who’s not the calmest gent at the best of times to say the least, was talking at least 2 octaves higher all day after hearing of the decision. Watching the impotent arm-flailing and screeching and gnashing of teeth from all the "colourful characters" I work with was easily the best laugh I've had since I started work here - despite the fact that The Office tv series was undoubtedly based on the section I work in. Cannot wait til the first worshippers turn up to use the new facility. The laughs in an English office job are few and far between.

Nothing else has really happened. Yawn. It's about to get arctic again this weekend / next week as a massive cold front being sent Special Delivery from Siberia is about to envelope us. Doesn't bother me, I'm off to Sri Lanka on Friday for two weeks. Curry, beaches, temples, jungle, elephants, leapords and hopefully blue whale-spotting. Serenity Now.

ARCTIC LONDON

Ah, post-Christmas winter in London.

Yessiree, it’s been a tad nippy here in the Old Dart recently. For a few days last week it was even colder in London than it was in Greendland or parts of Antarctica (-11 degrees Celsius). The ocean froze at Dorset (see pic above), the Trafalgar Square fountains froze over (ditto), lakes and ponds froze over and foot long icicles formed in my street. Bookies started lowering their odds on the Thames getting chunky, school was cancelled for porky little primary schoolers in numerous areas out of fear that they might devour their bus drivers if they got stuck in a snowdrift en route, and I got a few dustings of huge fluffy snowflakes on my morning walks to the train station. Slightly warmer now, but only just. Aye, i’s been royt interestin’, me ol’ muckers.

Other London-y bits of interest:

· New Years – didn’t do much at all, hundreds of thousands people here were sick with colds, flus and the dreaded nonovirus, so not as many people went out, apparently. I stayed at home and watched the rich drunken neighbours set off fireworks from their rooftop balconies at 11pm. No apartments or rich drunken neighbours caught fire, unfortunately.

· More big names in the world of consumer products have been chewed up and spat out by the C****t C****h (as the w*nker editorialists in the papers here now refer to it – oh, my sides). Both Marks and Spencer and Debenhams started shedding jobs last week after the post-Xmas rush turned out to be a stroll. And Wedgewood, the fine china flogger which also happened to own Waterford Crystal and Royal Daulton, has called in the administrators. The dirge continued sounding today as Barclays gave 4000 of their employees the big Double Mocha Sackicino as well. Hopefully the entire mass-produced pop music industry will be given their Permanent Coffee Breaks later this week. Getting goosebumps of delight already at the thought of Girls Aloud and Boyzone having to line up at the Social office next to toothless Milwall supporters.

· My gym is packed with wretched New Years' Resolutioners clogging up the free weights area with their shiney new outfits and soon-to-evaporate enthusiasm. The cretins. I tolerate their presence because I know that, by the end of February, all of them will be back in their cosy local boozers, sucking down pints and bucket-sized glasses of Pinot instead, having convinced themselves once again that walking to and from the train counts as “exercise” and will save them from looking like Vicky Pollard or Ronnie Barker in a few years’ time. Very London.

· An escaped horse decided to canter into the lobby of his nearest cinema to check out the latest box office releases, prompting much spilling of popcorn and fizzy drinks onto tracksuits. Rumours that he left in disgust upon seeing High School Musical 3 still on the billboard are yet to be confirmed.

- The government announced today that they were going to push on with plans to build a third runway at Heathrow, meaning thousands of nearby houses will get the Big Yellow Machine Makeover. The airwaves and news broadcasts tonight have consequently been full of howls of protest, teeth-gnashing, clothes-rending and spirited-yet-polite discussion. Boris Johnson apparently even BLOW-DRIED AND STYLED HIS HAIR for a press-conference on the topic, causing everyone to momentarily forget the topic completely. Am going to have to commence self-flagellation if I miss seeing THAT on the late news. Some things are a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

- Almost forgot: after Croydon Council dropped one politician (our ex-IRA operative councillor), we're down another. Our Mayor. He dropped dead of a heart attack on New Year's Eve, apparently. At this rate I'll be CEO by Easter. Hobbiton-upon-Croydon, anyone?

So that's all the news that's fit to print (or that I can remember right now here in my room). Hope you're all well, and yes, fill me in on your latest shenanigans, you nutty bunch of scamps, you.