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I’m now officially moved into my new flat, which is located in a funny area of new york that can’t make up its mind whether or not it’s Soho, Little Italy or China town. Walking around it seems like every street has a different cultural leaning, some of them are just Vietnamese restaurants, and then you turn a corner and you’re confronted with green white and red poles and you know you just walked into Little Italy.

By the way, the flat is massive and has a spare room for visitors. Hint hint.

The other day I made a trip to Ikea and bought a whole bunch of furniture which was delivered yesterday, which meant that I spent the majority of yesterday sitting on the floor building, in order, a bed side table, a chest of draws and then a bed. I now considered myself a skilled carpenter of jesus like proportions. Admittedly I slept a little uneasily last night as I had a funny feeling that my bed might collapse at any moment in a cloud of sawdust, but thankfully it all held together and I’m still alive and not missing any limbs.

With Argos and the US Embassy in first and second place I would rate Ikea as my third least favourite place in the world. In my own personal hell I would spend eternity endlessly visiting these horrible establishments with a short gap in between where I would have to assemble all the furniture I was forced to purchase.