Since I wrote anything. Not that anyone apart from the odd stray visitor would notice.
It's August, and I cannot believe how time flies! What the hell was I doing in March, April, May, June?
The only thing I vividly remember is the flooding, and that's that.
We've already had to book our Christmas holidays at work, in bloody August!
But over here, people just plan in advance like nowhere else I've been. Fancy buying tickets to see the Kaiserchiefs in Sheffield Arena in December...I don't even know if I'll be alive then.

Anyway, I want to come back to my title "Fear and Loathing in.."
I wonder, why so many people always smirk when I say I live in Chesterfield, or at least raise their eyebrows in a "Gosh, really?" manner. It's not all that bad? Sheffield's worse, in my opinion, although more diluted. I do like a night out in Chesterfield, I actually prefer it to anywhere else I've been here in the UK (ok, Edinburgh left aside for now). There've been the odd shootings and muggings in the town centre and especially in Brimington, and yes, you do have to get used to the 15 year olds pushing prams en gros through town on a Saturday morning, clad in black leggings, short denim skirts, free around the midriff, dangly golden earrings and necklaces. But hey, I hardly see them anymore.
It's funny how you get so used  to it...when I first came over I couldnt't believe what I saw on my first big night out here, and I'd lived in Berlin for a good few years.
So that's why it's called Chav-vegas, or Chezvegas, because of the flashing neon lights and the drunken bare legged teenage ladettes from Thursday till Sunday night.
That's my rambly bit for the day. Not much going on here at the moment, it's Friday night and I cannot wait to relax on the sofa in a bit with a nice cup of tea and watch "Asbo teen to Beauty Queen."