The ego has landed.....

.....in other words - we're in! Through the door of debt and into the new premises. Obviously only a fool would set up a business in the current economic climate, particularly one based entirely around a rowing boat that has been sawed in half, an old sofa (more of that in a moment), coffee, and tall stories of questionable accuracy. But it appears that's precisely what we're doing.

I walked through the doors for the first time last week. Actually, that should be "we" walked through the doors last week, as Isla was strapped to my chest at the time. I used her as a sort of fleshy buffer to ease the door open, and so our entry into the shop for the first time was punctuated by an exclamation of delight from me, and a howl of protest from her.

Anyway, it's great to be in. The people of Dartmouth have been more than welcoming, one of whom is Josh, who introduced me to Jim, who told me about Simon, who recommended me to Steve, who said I really should chat to (confusingly) Simon (a different one), who said I'd be mad to proceed without talking to (even more confusingly) Jim (a different one). So, me, Tam, Isla, Jim, Jim, Simon, Simon, and Steve are now getting stuck in.

One of the first things Simon did was rip up the carpet, to reveal a set of tiles covered in an adhesive that appeared to be made of jam, combined with snot, combined with something very, very sticky. Seldom has an adhesive been so adhesive. We've spent a great deal of this afternoon scraping it off. Reuben has assisted us in this process by bringing me his ball every fifteen seconds so I can throw it three feet away (it's only a small shop), for him to chase, then bring back, drop at my feet, and look at me like this is simply the most impossibly exciting game ever invented. This went on for two hours, and would still be going on now if he had his way, the utter buffoon.

  Now, the sofa. This is no ordinary shop, so this will be no ordinary sofa. I've found one in a place called "Commerce" in Dartmouth (go there, it's full of wacky furniture and eccentric, absolutely beautiful odds and bobs that have a whiff of intrigue and adventure about them). It's worn and battered, and the cushions are made from a faded red ensign that fluttered off the back of a commercial vessel that has circumnavigated the globe. Sit on it and your generously supported rump will be nestled into the warm winds of Madagascar, the psychotic fury of a hurricane off Alaska, and the cold fog of the Grand Banks. This sofa alone is reason enough to visit the shop I'd say. We're going to charge at least a tenner to sit in it, and a fiver to sniff it.

The wooden flooring arrives tomorrow, and then I'm off to get the rowing boat from Nige down in Cadgwith. And on that note, hope you're enjoying the new series by the way. If you happen to enjoy the sight of a grown man being turned into a great big vomity organ of evacuation, then the next episode is definitely the one for you.

Walked Reubs home at the end of a knackering day, pausing only briefly by the river so he could be assaulted by two swans. If you look at the picture, you might see elegance and serenity, but actually you're looking at Vinnie Jones and Ray Winstone with feathers. Shortly after this photo it got a tad feisty. I know hurting a swan is tantamount to shooting the Queen, but touch my big hairy boy (not a euphemism) again and I'll do something unpleasant to you with some sage and onion stuffing that would make Bill Oddie go quite ashen.

Anyway, off to Cadgwith to get the rowing boat. Which we'll then saw in half. Oh yes.

All the best, Mont