After 10 years,  it’s goodbye sweet Brixton. I shall miss you. But not at 6.15 in the evening when I’m not trying to get down the High Street past the pushchairs and the bus queues and the dealers spitting ’skunk’ in my ear.

I’ve papercuts from building cardboard boxes and chillblains from defrosting the freezer and I’m knackered.

Normal service will hopefully be resumed next week.