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I've just been watching Elvis' 68 comeback special. There's quite a lovely, somewhat sexist (somewhat sexy), interlude where The King kisses all the girls on the front row. He masterfully takes their teenage faces in his bejewelled hands and gives them a memory to last them a lifetime. This is the metaphorical welcome I'd like to give you. So, hello. Mwah! I hope that stays in your brain box for a couple of years. Thankyouverymuch.

Watching a dead rocker sing and dance for two hours might be some people's idea of hell, but for me it was a reward for figuratively chaining myself to my latop these past couple of months. Had I actually chained myself to my computer I may have gotten through my work all the more faster. For five months I fooled myself into thinking that two jobs were better than one, and come pay day that was partly true. By day I was a mild mannered, sympathetic writer of emails to angry Virgin Mobile customers. By night I was a trendy, witty reviewer of Bristol bars, theatres, shops and events. When in reality I felt like neither. I felt grumpy, sleepy, wingey, dopey, bashful and Doc.

Having spent most of my days and evenings writing in some form or another, I began to forget that life could exist without my fingers glued to my computer. I'd started to forget what it was like not to feel the heavy, hot weight of a laptop on my thighs. My mind dreamt of the days when I lied on the grass, stared at the clear blue sky and felt the warm summer breeze on my skin - but then again, so had most people. It was winter.

I knew life had taken a bit of an odd turn when I'd spent ten hours a day at work in front of painfully bright white screen, only to come home and continue writing away on my own little HP. Much like a baby needs its blanket, I felt comforted falling asleep by the soft whirr of my laptop. Only to be awoken by Malcolm Tucker effing and jeffing on The Thick of It DVD I'd left in the player.

What was supposed to be a four week job writing for a website, turned into 20 weeks. So when lovely Laura lady (my temporary boss) said 'I'm sorry, but we've finished launching the website,' I couldn't have been more pleased to have been fired by default. The day after I finished I slept like a baby. Minus the whirring, swearing blanket of Malcolm Tucker.

Shortly afterwards I received my final pay cheque, and I decided that depsite what I'd always told my (poorer) self, money could in fact buy me happiness. So I marched myself to the shops to buy many many things I didn't need. Books, fancy underwear, make-up. A cup with a bird drawn on the front. All extremely worthwhile purchases.

Buying stuff was literally the gift that kept on giving, in the happiness stakes. As I sat on the train on the way to eat, drink and be merry, wearing my new clobber, my face awash with freshly opened make-up, my nose firmly in a new-book-smelling-bestseller I couldn't have felt more cheery. I even had swanky new shoes on my happy tootsies. So swanky in fact my eyes couldn't be torn away from them. A smile spread across my face as I ambled my way around the back streets of Bath. But what do they say boys and girls? Pride comes before a ... * Crash! Bang! Wallop! * Oooh, err... fall. My swanky SLIPPERY new shoes left me falling arse over tit in front of some very helpful Japanese tourists, who dusted me off and sent me on my way.

On the way home, self esteem and bottom somewhat bruised I stared out of the window. As the train glided its way past the rivers of Bradford on Avon and the fields of Avoncliffe, I felt myself unwind for the first time in months. My eyes widened, free of feeling tired or dry, at the beautiful sights before them. I breathed a breathy sigh and rolled my shoulders, shaking off the weight of the world. Like something from the movies, the lyrics 'one day like this a year would see my right' soared through my iPod headphones. (Shortly followed by Carwash by Rolls Royce, which seemed slighly less significant).

It was then I knew that I was in fact right all along, clever me, money can't buy you serenity. Only Guy Garvey, the green, green grass of home and a day away from my laptop could do that.

...I just couldn't wait to sit down in front of my computer with a cup of coffee and tell you all about it.