Well, I moved house on the weekend. Again. Whilst packing up the car/van/trailer, I began counting just how many moves I have made in my life. When I got to 25 I stoppped - too frightening. I wish you could include the amount of times you have had to pack up all the crap you have with you, put it in a bag, stumble down a flight of small stairs with a throbbing hangover, arriving back at reception where all that cheap spanish beer is trying to escape from your body any way it can, whilst trying to get your passport back of the bloke at the desk whose ablity to speak english evaporated soon after you gave him 12 quid for the bed.....

That's dedication.

But all in all the move went well. So I have gone from the ridiculous to the sublime, from 1.5 rooms to enough rooms that if I leave my phone in the kitchen and I am on the front verandah, it rings out before I get there......

And I need to get some more crap. There are so many places to stash it now, it would be rude to not fill it.

They (ahhhhh the mysterious 'they') say that moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do, along with getting chucked and starting a new job - so two out of three ain't bad.

But now for the party. I have decided that they only way to celebrate a new house is to of course throw a house warming and in the spirit of parties all around the world - theme it.

One word to say - Margaritaville.

(the dulcet sounds of Jimmy Buffet wafting across the dodgy drug dealing end of Taylor St - accompanied by the noise of the blender - lovely!)

Come on down - Sat arvo. Chips and salsa - perhaps even sombreos.