Pack, unpack, pack "I'd rather shut my cock in a car door" was what a mate told me when I told him we were moving and after about the 27th sweltering run between houses in the car stuffed full of crap I would have done the same myself if I had better co-ordination.

Then I encountered two comedians dressed as removal men on Monday who, paid by the hour, managed to drag the job out for 8 hours. Actually they were alright and I should thank two mates who helped me lump heavy stuff around on Saturday. Adam and Dave - thank you.

Moving is bloody painful and I should know, this was my 10th home move in 10 years. Anyway we are in now, the house is beautiful and I'm never moving again. Honest.

Tomorrow morning we have to find the suitcases, get whatever crap we chucked in there out, and pack for a 8 day holiday. We fly to Montreal, the Canadian French enclave tomorrow and have four nights exploring old and new Montreal. Then on Tuesday we drive south across the border and into Vermont and onto the ski resort of Stowe.

Stowe is a year-round resort and we plan to do nothing but rest and shop, something even the most manly of man would be willing to do if they lived in Bermuda.

I will pack the lap-top to keep an eye on BBC Breaking News to see which striker Charlton have bought.  ¶ 22:35