After last night’s fantastic final performance of Backstage in Biscuit Land that ended with a standing ovation, we’re now on our way back to the UK. We’ve had a wonderful time, the country’s beautiful and we’ve been made very welcome.

Sure, it took us a while to get used to Norwegian currency, the Krone, and to the cost of things – compared to the UK it’s very expensive!…

This morning got off to a very early start. At 6am we carefully squeezed the entire set for Backstage in Biscuit Land into a cab and headed for Gatwick. We’re off to Vårscenefest in Tromsø, Norway for our first ever international performance.…

At last my geranium has a new home – not a completely different address, just a new pot to live in.

My geranium, Little G, is an offshoot of the much-maligned geranium that arrived in Leftwing Idiot’s kitchen four years ago.…

This morning a ‘ticcing fit’ turned into an involuntary poetry recital when my tics suddenly took flight with Icarus:

“Icarus, your mum was a piece of plastic tubing,
Your father was a bee,
And you flew too close to a Gordon Ramsey lookalike.…

Last night Will found me having a ‘ticcing fit’ in the most ridiculous position yet. On discovering me he said, ‘I can’t wait to hear how you ended up like this.’

He had to wait a while for an answer because the fit turned out to be a long and painful one.…

I’m back in London after a lovely weekend away in Cumbria with Will.

When we were travelling back yesterday I ticced, “Poems about sponges”

Will, knowing my tics would take the bait, said ‘Sponge Poem 1’, and the following strange stanzas rolled out:

TH: “Sponge, sponge glorious sponge
Dreaming of discos
While cleaning your bum.”…

I’ve mentioned that my tics love penguins in previous posts. They’re one of a random assortment of things that always make me over excited. Another is when people roll their R’s. Both inexplicably make my tics go bananas.

Just before heading to bed last night I ticced: “What noise do penguins make?”…

The large window in front of me is awash with pale orange light. In the distance there’s the silhouette of a large tree, its dense tangle of black lines extending to the edges of the delicately coloured sky. The light of the day has almost gone.…

Will and I are in Cumbria for a few days, visiting his mum, Barbara, and generally having a break. We came up by train yesterday and instantly settled into the more gentle pace of life here.

Barbara’s house is lovely. The light travels right through from the front to the back, it’s super-accessible, and I felt very at home straightaway.…

Election campaigning is in full swing here in the UK as we speed towards polling day on May 7th. In the last few days lots of the main political parties have been launching their manifestos. They’ve been all over the news, and every time another slick political catch-phrase sticks in my ear, my tics respond with their own:

“A Better Yucca Plant, a Better Future”

“A Brighter, More Secure, Foreskin”

“A Manifesto With Balloons at its Heart”

“For The Common Bin”

“Policies for People Dressed As Unicorns”

I thought I’d go one step further and let my tics create their own mini-manifesto.…