Saturday: IF a man spends his days tramping the streets, trying to keep out of the rain, going into any building he can find to get warm, and occasionally scrounging a cup of tea, he is generally considered to be a vagrant. Well at this paper, things have changed and the journalist’s new priority is to keep warm and find somewhere to sit. One of our hacks is considering fingerless gloves to stave off pneumonia. Rain.

Sunday: THE big change-over day brought about one of the worst conversations in human history – how to divert the phones to our new shiny mobiles. Hours of debate raged, who wuld take calls when someone was on holiday, what happens at the weekend, how do you transfer to another line. I obviously didn’t concentrate enough, managing to call myself at the first attempt to call the office. Cloudy.

Next week: SO far, I have written stories from my car, from libraries, in the civic centre, at a bus stop, sitting on the pavement, resting on a pile of chocolate bars (a low point), in a hair salon and from the pub. Today my laptop battery died and I was forced to run through the streets, desperately looking for somewhere to plug it in, much like a man runs through the streets when desperate for the toilet. My life is a bit odd now. Windy.