I recently moved house. It took quite a long time for me to get there.

My things won't arrive for at least another two months.

The story starts in Sheffield, the fourth largest city in England. It's a northern industrial city. Well it used to be, then some clever sod found a more efficient way of producing steel. More efficient because you don't need as many human beings around at the time. There aren't as many jobs in Sheffield as there used to be. I believe it's the same in most towns in England. Ask anyone from Newcastle or Liverpool. Or anyone who used to be a miner.

So what do people do for a job in Sheffield? Well, some of them work at a place called J & J Tranfield Ltd. They make sausages. A few nice sausages, a lot of nasty sausages. Over 200 tonnes of nasty sausages every week. Now THAT'S quite a lot of piggy-wiggies in anyones book.

Now I used to work at J & J Tranfield's. I didn't make sausages, I worked in the offices. It was a very boring job involving pushing a lot of buttons on a computer and then waiting for the computer to produce some numbers. The Production Director hoped that these numbers might give him some kind of mystical insight into why the production process wasn't as efficient as he thought it should be. I don't think he ever found out why. The numbers never added up. Not that that was MY fault. Honest. I had a funny feeling that the only reason they kept me was because I fixed the computers when they broke. Considering everyone there had the same effect on computers that salt has on slugs I was quite busy. That made me happy and kept my mind off the fact that Adolf Hitler's bastard offspring worked in the same office as me.

Anyway, enough about that dump for now. Something far more interesting was happening elsewhere. This is usually the case I find. For once, however, the interesting thing was happening to some members of my family. My mother and her husband, and my sister and two brothers, were moving to New Zealand. They'd been before and liked it. I suspected it was one of those places that was nice to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there. So I left them to it.

About a year after that I moved out of my Dad's house (where I'd been since returning from two entertaining years at Nottingham Trent University) and found a nice little house to rent with my mate MarkyC. There was a superb pizza place just round the corner, and a Kentucky Fried Chicken. And we got cable TV. Which meant lots of footy on the telly and The Simpsons and Letterman until they moved it onto Sky2, the one channel we couldn't get. And we got our computers networked, which meant lots of Deathmatch Quake and Duke Nukem and Command & Conquer. Mint. I lost about 3 stones in weight (that's 42lb for those who prefer such measurements) because I couldn't be bothered to cook. Or eat. And I stopped going out drinking with my Dad and stayed in watching footy and The Simpsons and playing Quake. Mint.

Tune in soon for the next thrilling installment. Will Breadbin ever eat again? And what do they really put in sausages? All will be revealed in time dear reader.

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