Currently blogging from London, but looking forward to returning to Thanet later today. Not least because of all the security alerts going on everywhere here. Not a naturally scared person but would rather be looking at Viking Bay!

It's been hectic 24-hours: attending the Arqiva Radio Awards with GaydarRadio (yey! they won! well done guys); onto a Sky corporate do at Oxo Tower (fresh oysters - from West Coast, not Whistable, very dissapointed); stopover at parents via argument with taxi driver, and then MediaGuardian TV Festival press conference this morning.

The latter was rather hard work after I enjoyed the former a little much (the awards/Sky do - not the argument!). Well the free drink anyway. The food at Arqiva awards was not enjoyable, however. Guinea fowl - not exactly a food that comes to mind when 'mass catering' is mentioned. And Angel Delight for dessert, which was doing a very bad impression of cheesecake, so the menu said.

Met Richard and Leah from Gaydar and formerly of Big Brother - really nice people! And got the inside track on the whole BB process. Things are never what they seem, it seems...

Still all good stuff. In Cambridge next week for the Radio Festival. Might have to stay sober otherwise I won't make it through...

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Last night we popped into our new local (well, the pub that is closest to us), the Wrotham Arms. Took a punt on the chance they had some live music on, and we were not disappointed. We stumbled in on , a Ozzie with many guitars and much talent. Some great acoustic blues, country and folk-ish types tunes. All good fun and he had everyone in the pub singing by the end.

Made us both get excited about Folk Week in August.

Oh and it stayed open til 12! We will back. Not least for the fact the American (yes!) landlord rather nicely helped me find a pound coin with his lighter. The 'Philly Cheese Burger' for a fiver also looks tempting.

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So sorry for the absinth blog-fans, I have been enduring, sorry, I mean enjoying the delights of Broadstairs Dickens Festival.

It's been interesting, going to the butchers and seeing Queen Victoria being served her pork chops. No it has - really.

We've have indeed tried to get into the spirit of it. Hard not to when there's a bloody great marquee outside your window, with kids choirs warbling out tunes from 'Oliver' every five minutes.

Bah-humbug (see in my 'Scrooge' like way, I have been enjoying it.)

We went to see a play of the 'Pickwick Papers', at a local drinking establishment in the week.

Now, I know people say in Jane Austen, 'nothing ever happens' but blimey, a few maidens running around worrying about potential suitors would be far more interesting than an altercation over a 5-bob note or a lost hankie, which seemed to be the vibe in this 'Pickwick's' plot. It was like a bad pantomine.

I confess, reader, I have never read any Dickens. But I have enjoyed the stories in the musical and cinematic versions. Dickens' character were more like caricatures, which I guess is why they were so easy to adapt for the musical stage and film. But theatrically - Oscar Wilde, there are not.

Perhaps I am being a little too kind on the local ham-dram, sorry am-dram players, by blaming the script. But bar one (who proved - through his god-awful accent - that he thought he was the Artful Dodger in 'Oliver' - wrong book my dear!), they did a fairly good job with a pretty boring play. Though not enough, to make me and my companions sit through the second half. Sorry guys.

Elsewhere in the town, we have enjoyed the music and merriment. Oh, and both of us being totally and utterly crapped on by a seagull on the way to visit Bleak House. (Like never before: hair, bag, dress, leg...they all got a pasting). That'll teach me to diss-the-Dickens.

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So a few weeks down the line and we firmly settled in the new place. Okay that's not strictly true. Loads of things not unpacked, but at least my desk/office is set up and I have an amazing view of the coast and Victoria Gardens in Broadstairs. So very peaceful indeed.

Experiences so far have been mixed. The first weekend my enjoyment of visiting Westwood Cross, the local retail park/small town, was marred by nearly an hours wait for a taxi outside of Tescos in the pouring rain. I guess I am just used to calling up at the supermarket in London and cab arriving - usually with some kind of number ref - within minutes. Not being told what's going on after 30 mins, which turns into a whole hour, and you can't go back in and ring (from the cab firm 'phone') to check in case 1) someone nicks your cab 2) they turn up and then later claim you weren't there. It's also very ramdom some just tootling up in a car and shouting out your name. I stayed in the same position for 70 minutes, but they still claimed I wasn't there.

Turns out there are only 4 cabs in Broadstairs. Eventually I got one of them.

Anyway - a lession learned. Other half will be doing the shopping from now on.

On the up side, have much enjoyed shopping in the local shops in Broadstairs and going for walks when I finish work accompanied by cockles and ice creams. It is, after all, these types of experiences we moved down here for.

I can get frustrated at the supermarket anywhere.

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Okay, so I've been a crap blogger.

It's been nearly three weeks since my last post. But hey, give me a break, we moved! Finally.

Possibly the worst moving experience of my life, mainly to the distance, the combined amount of stuff me and other half now have, and the severe lack of energy caused by getting old.

The moving day was, shall we say, tense. Just glad my father was there to stave off a complete melt down of mine and other half's relationship. So 3 hours later than planned we packed up the luton van, which was full to the gills, and proceeded to hack it from South East London to Thanet at 50mph (that is all the van would do, and then it was moving from side to side rather precariously). Journey was spent in silence until we were in view of Broadstairs, with 20 mins to spare before the letting agent closed and we would have been left to sleep in the van for the night.

Then 3 hours of unloading the van ensued. We'd already binned off the idea of travelling back to London that night, so was really hoping for a drink to accompany my curry (at the only restaurant open later than 10pm on a Monday night.) Turned out to be BYO.

In the end a good thing as 5.30am start to get the van back to Forest Hill, and then a few hours of cleaning up, landlord being predictably late to handover keys, and then lugging way too much stuff back on the train to Broadstairs, rather sapped one's energy.

Worth it? Oh yes, but next time we hiring professionals. I never want to lift another box ever again.

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My previous visits to the £4-for-a-dress bargain store at the Hammersmith branch were short and impulsive. I remember why now. The store, while sprawling over a former C&A/Allders space, does nothing to add anything to the customer experience.

Thought I was being clever going in before lunch but it was already crowded. Like it was a Saturday and someone had said that the British economy would collapse unless more people bought A-line linen skirts and floral print dresses. After picking up 10 items, not trying them on, and then gradually my sensible gene kicking in and realising I didn't actually like half of them, I spent £38 on five items.

Was nearly £48 as the daft bint at the till (who was ironically giving till training to a new girl) put one item through twice and so had to escort me to the separate customer services area where she did sweet FA to get the attention of one her 'colleagues' to refund my £10. After 5 minutes I said "Are you going to do anything?" and she said "We have to wait for someone and we can't go over there as they (other frustrated shoppers who had been queuing for ages) might think we're pushing in" to which I replied. "Yes but I am not here to bring some of your cheap and nasty clothes back, I am here because you did the transaction wrong YOU FKG DOPEY C*NT NOW GET IN THERE AND GET ME MY REFUND." That last bit might be a bit different to what was actually said.

Left feeling that whilst a bargain, the place is still a shop for scumbags - that includes the staff. Went straight over the road to New Look where it was peaceful and quiet and got some better quality stuff for not much more. And the staff were nicer.

Will only be back to Primark when I need a pair of shoes for £2. Even in the cheap end of the retail universe, the shopping experience counts for everything in my book.

Look forward to similar adventures in Westwood Cross shopping centre. Broadstairs!

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Off Southend Pier.
It's the longest pleasure pier in the world you know, even with the all the fires and various boats steaming into it.

Mind you, I hated growing up in Southend. That's why I am moving to Broadstairs.

Hit a nerve? No, surely not. Oh well, each to their own. It is mildly amusing in places.

By the way, was fortunate enough to meet Mr Gore at the launch of Current TV a few months ago, were he said hello to me in the style of Joey from 'Friends': "How you doing?"

Despite the smarm, he was pleasant enough, but actually quite dull and stuck to the script completely when interviewed, but then I guess that's what made him a good politician.

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I am inclined to quote the bitchy one from 'Bridget Jones', "Does nothing work outside of London?", but to be honest with you, nothing bloody works in London, so it not very different really. Just ultimately annoying.

All I want is someone to stay "Yes you are definitely moving", so I can get on with the boring job of changing a billion utilities...having moved a trillion times in my life I know the score now:
- If you don't give BT about 10 days, you'll have no phone.
- If you don't call your broadband provider the right amount of days following your call to BT they will claim there is no BT line at the new place.....
- Back to BT to be told there is a line
- Back to ISP where they will act like bellends until you shout and scream and/or tell them you are a journalist.

Pathetic really....

And we're planning to get Sky. God knows what customer services joys that will bring up.

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Slightly shocked this morning to hear that we are moving to the earthquake capital of the UK. Well sort of. There have been earthquakes in Broadstairs before you know.

In 1580.

On the flat - thanks to our current landlord, who has a severe lack-of-urgency deficiency (don't ask me about the bathroom incident...I'll be here all day), we still haven't got the final nod. Should be a formality though as work reference and credit checks were all fine..so hoping Monday.

Today's title is a tribute to the excellent 1974 disaster film 'Earthquake' - much loved in my house when I was young for its silly dialogue.

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Okay this is my first post so I suppose I better tell you what's going on here. Currently sitting here in work's Waterloo Road office waiting for confirmation that our 'dream-pad' in Broadstairs is ours - for the next six months at least.

After 13 years in London, me and the bloke are 'upping sticks' and moving to the seaside. We first visited Broadstairs on the Kent coast nearly two years ago, and frankly fell in love with it. Perhaps we were starting to get a bit sick of London - bombs, weekly stabbings and shootings don't exactly help - but in the last two years we've been looking for ways to make it happen. And f*ck me, it has.

Why Broadstairs? It's peaceful, is got beaches - actually its got many beaches - and the view from our new pad (fingers crossed) is to die for. The people seem friendlier and the place seems to have a sense of community, which seems to be lost in many places...not just in London.

Anyway I won't go on too much. Don't want to tempt fate. The next post you'll get will be a squeal from me, because the letting agents have said it's all systems go on us moving in a month.

Then after that, it'll be the trials and tribulations of moving out of a city I once said I could never leave. Is it going to be all as we hoped darn in Kent? Probably not, but it'll be fun finding out...hope you can join me for the ride.
- JO

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