Don't forget it's London Open House in a couple of weekends time.

I've been into Clarice Cliff for as long as I can remember... and now the Guardian are on to her.

Sunday 4th September (next Sunday) is European Day of Jewish Culture and Heritage - there's a ton of stuff happening: check it out.

I realise it's over a hundred years since my family came to England (en route to South Africa, but never quite making it, so family legend goes) from North East Romania, but I still feel a little sad about the storms there.

I'm busy. Sorry for update paucity. Lots of work. Lots of other stuff. Lots. Lots. Lots. Say hi.

Yeah, yeah, I know, my images have gone. I've got a backup somewhere, gimme a mo. Crap day yesterday: mail server died, luckily I had another mail account on my new ISP, which I used in Thunderbird, so now half my work's in one and half in the other. Joy of using IMAP. Except now I have two accounts in Thunderbird (mail files came back, but not blog images) but (a) Thunderbird can't read a lot of the HTML mail and (b) I have a bunch of aliases that I can't set up in Thunderbird.

Gah.

Also, I have a lot of work to do.

But I went for a lovely promenade last night down the Golders Green High Road with S. It was like being on holiday - balmy night - except that the watchees were less in midriff-skimming bikinis and more in sniusdik long-sleeved long-skirted wear and sheitels/sheitel-like haircuts.

Hey, look what I just discovered. My last column from The Jewish Quarterly is online.

I have just discovered Metcheck.com - how cool. Or hot. Depending, y'know.

In the light of the potential Asian Bird Flu pandemic, I feel strangely relieved to read about single-shot vacine for life, currently being researched.

Of course, it could just be a sign of my getting older and being more bothered about mortality. I mean, I've even sorted out my pension, so it must be true.

Walking along Margaret Street last night, 7.30ish, on our way to Langans Bistro with A+A, we walked past Dale Winton. He didn't recognise me, but let's just say he's not looking well. Thin, over-tanned, blotchy almost, drawn. Yo-yo dieting is his middle name.

iPod My Baby. We live in the total consumerist society, right?

What exactly is The Casual Passer-By?

I have been meaning to buy a shredder for some time. Spurred on by outrageous stories of identity theft and a desire to clear out my paperwork, it was on my must-buy list for a while. But then, I got shredder choice inertia: would it do CDs? stapes? small? large? I kept looking and couldn't find the perfect shredder: perhaps, some metaphor for my life.

Then, on Sunday, on impulse, I was passing a store, and saw a shredder that looked like it might do. I did my own version of comparison shopping (called my sister and asked her to check the price online before I purchased) and within moments, I was a member of the shrederati.

What is it? It's a Fellowes PS-62C High Security Cross Cut Underdesk Shredder.

The best thing? I feel cleansed. I shredded ten years of credit card bills (I know, why was I even keeping them), and in fact my new friend had to have a rest after that. I like the destruction. I like the nothingness. I like the quiet hum of the fellow in action. I like the meditative quality. Meditation? Shreditation.

Haddon Hall

Haddon Hall

What I did on holiday. Two glorious weeks in the Derbyshire dales - this picture is Haddon Hall, just outside of Bakewell. A truly unspoilt small-size Manor House, first built in the twelfth century, but with many later additions, making it something of a jigsaw puzzle, with fabulous embroideries and beautiful, peaceful, gardens. You can see the rest of my Haddon pictures here;I'm bizarrely proud of them, still using my camphone (Nokia something or other) so closeups are best. Lord Edward Manners, apparently, just got married there, but had the same problem as Charles and Camilla - didn't want to let the commomers have their weddings there, so had just a blessing at home. Local gossip: he recently acquired the Peacock at Rowsley, and is also in disupte with some local protestors about his quarrying the land.

Say you're a bit glass-half-empty. You expect the worse. You panic, uneccesarily. Let's face it, if you're not Jewish, you're from some other immigrant minority where your forebears couldn't sleep at night because they might be coming to get you.

The last thing you need, then, is the red24 security alert. Sadly, for me, it came with my house insurance (I love cross-selling). Now, I get a daily email telling me about tragic things going on in our global village that I should avoid. Bird flu is on its way to India. Protests in Venezuala. Don't even think about traveling to Burundi.

Of course, I could cancel it. But some deep, dark recess of my soul kinda - I know I shouldn't admit this - enjoys it.

Now, here's a thing.

My downstairs neighbour - we call her Green-Fingered-Lil, even though her name's not Lil - trimmed the lavender in the garden at the weekend. When I went out on Sunday night, there were three bunches tied with string, outside each of my upstairs neighbours, including me.

I thought, how cute, how French (I think she is French, although Lil is not a common French name), and thought I'd hang it in my kitchen when I got home.

But when I got home, all three had gone. There's a couple of likely explanations, I guess, but I'm thinking that one of my upstairs neighbours (and I can guess who) permanently-borrowed the lot.

Do as you would be done by, clearly.

I want to live in a house.

Since I've gone cold-turkey on coffee for health reasons (I kept saying I didn't really drink coffee, and then when I added up my Starbucks habit with my helpful ready reckoner a few months ago, I realised I did), I have renamed Starbucks Teabucks. Sadly, as ever, I am not the first person to think of this.