Insanity.

I was determined to get over this needle phobia, especially since the 10mg of Daizepam the doctor gave me last time I had to have an injection didn't work and I went into shaky shock. I got sick of having panic attacks at seeing one on the telly, in a mag, on the street. You'll be pleased to know it's somewhere very discreet , so no-one normally sees it. Surprisingly, my mother thought it was very nice - which baffled the hell out of me, I can tell ya! I was impressed with the blokey, Chris at Crewkerne's Skin Ink - he's lightning fast. Done and dusted in about 10 minutes flat.

Oh dear though, you get what you pay for with London hotels. This room is only one step up from a dartmoor cell, in that the bed isn't bolted down and the toilet has a seat! Never mind, we've had a good laugh at having to fill the kettle up in the shower because it has a great big bathtap for a faucet...

His Lordship forgot his jacket, so we weren't allowed into the Ritz for dinner. Ah well. It looked fancy anyway, but probably prices through the roof. We went to Dino's instead, where they served us some nice lasagne verde. My review: Good if you just want to eat. Not what you'd call fine cuisine, but certainly yompable. The pudding with mille de fleur was a bit strange, but the cheesecake was amazing! (Mum says banana and mashed potato go well in a sandwich)

We went to look at the Tate Modern too today - my personal favourite was the pointless kitchen table and chair - lovingly painted in 3D on white formica laminate cubes by Richard Artschwager. He likes Cubism, not my cup of tea, I much prefer the humorous shades of Matisse, but we both appreciated the "Fluxchess" and other Flux works, like the "instructional" box of art. Example on some cards:

"3 States of Yellow: Yellow Yellow Yellow. Yellow Loud. Yellow Red."

"Umbrellas:

• 1 Umbrella.

• 2 Umbrella."

We weren't allowed to take pictures in the Tate, or at least, not of the artwork - so here's our interpretation of the Tate.

Quote of the Day: "Morrison's corn beef hash: crap. French batteries: crap. Kiddeminster: crap. The canal was lurking behind the flippin' bushes!" The Trainmaster's review.