I put on my coat of trumpets.

Yesterday was lotsa fun including annoying the Scientologists again. I shall detail that later. But the important thing yesterday was arkady and I stopping in at a leather shop in Oxford Street and seeing THE LEATHER COATS OF OUR DREAMS. And today we are going back to buy them. We shall swing into Camden as well afterwards (I've lost the ball off my left nipple ring again) and probably stopping at the Dev. See you there.

Skirt the out-skirts.

Yesterday, arkady and I got up nice and early to go annoy the Scientologists. A fairly quiet one this time; we only had the Cult of Greed and Power leaflet, not the Xenu article or my planned one based on Space opera in Scientology doctrine. One very bored-looking young beat bobby. The clams' 'l33t OT p0w3rz sadly caused our PA's battery to run flat, and they then put out a loud radio to try to drown us out (not playing the amazing musical works of L. Ron Hubbard) which then drowned out their own attempts to lure the public in. I handed out leaflets at a good old pace shouting, "Anti-Scientology leaflets! Protect yourself from Scientologists! Save your mind and wallet!" We finished up a bit after three. Hopefully we set the tone for their 6:30pm Auditor's Day celebrations.

We wandered Tottenham Court Road, found a spare USB cable for Arkady's camera (could they just use a standard USB micro-B plug? Nooo, Fuji had to come up with their own) and fell over a leather shop. We saw and tried on THE COATS OF OUR DREAMS. Hers is Underworld (you may now call her Arkady Beckinsale) and mine is Matrix. The shoulders are a bit big, but of course I can just buff up a bit further. I've already gone back up to size 20 in T-shirts. (Here's to that having a body thing.) The guy's salesmanship was immaculate — particularly the bit where he looked at me and picked the right size and style. Top Range, basement 53 Oxford Street, W1R 1RD, 020 7494 2355. Recommended.

We got food at an Aberdeen Steak House. I can see you snickering already. The red raw meat was good, the service was hideous. We shoulda thought of Belgo.

We failed to make chrysaphi's housewarming through a lack of spoons all round. Bah!

Today redcountess was utterly devoid of spoons (and spent the day on debit card Internet retail therapy), so Arkady and I went to get our coats. The guy was very pleased his salesmanship had worked on us. OH MY GOD THESE COATS ARE GORGEOUS. £350 each, £600 the pair and worth every penny. I liked my old coat ... I love this one.

Clearing the credit card was long-winded and annoying — cheers to bank paranoia, less so when it's late and you're in a bloody hurry — so we got to Camden too late to properly check out short-sleeved mesh tops. We did try one at Dark Side with straps which was very tight and would have made many new friends at any gay club, but which was Not What I Was After. I'm after something like the fine-meshed one I have now, but as a sleeveless T-shirt. Steve's was no good either, and I can see why he has the reputation as a sleazebag he has. Cyberdog were completely clueless and useless, offering T-shirts in fluorescent pastel colours with mesh in. The shop in the front bit of Resurrection looked like it might have something, but there was no-one there willing to take our money. And I went to Cold Steel for a new nipple bead, but the thread is too small. Grah!

We adjourned to the Dev for a therapeutic pint or three. It's fun looking through your bag, counting the gadgets and realising cyberpunk is the present. Hi to mr_eleganza, who showed us his sword. (Being Danish, he's right into his Viking reenactments. And tried to lure Arkady in.) Arkady's bottom is truly spectacular in her PVC catsuit and I will do my level best to get an arsecon before the batteries run out. Arse icons being the new breast icons.