Jeff Buckley died ten years ago today. When I heard the news I was all alone in my wee flat in Bathurst, second year of university. I cried and cried and moped and moped, sitting on the couch with something sugary, probably a jar of Nutella!

For someone who only made one studio album in his lifetime, Jeff Buckley Inc. has been remarkably prolific over the past decade. And now for the anniversary there's yet a-bloody-nother one, So Real: Songs From Jeff Buckley. Some sort of greatest hits thingy. Hmm. All I can say to his estate is, whatever happened to rest in peace?

This blog turns the ripe old age of SEVEN today! Hurrah!

It's crazy thinking of all the things that have happened over the last seven years and how this old girl kept rattling on throughout, sporadic and oft neglected. And it's now been five years since the last redesign.

Here's a random list of Seven Things That Are In My Life Now That Weren't There Seven Years Ago.

1. Green & Blacks
2. Test Match Special
3. MotoGP
4. Mogwai
5. Regular exercise
6. Doctor G
7. "Doctor" Gillian McKeith (and how I miss those innocent times)

How's about you?

We went to the Shetland Islands and they were chock full of Shetland Ponies! It's like the joy of arriving in Australia and discovering they weren't kidding about the kangaroos and koalas.

Half pony!

This one chased us down a road.

Also, PUFFINS!

Saw this poster at the local primary school on Election Day. Nashty!

My visa arrived in the mail today. You'll never get rid of me now, Britain!

In the end there was no need for immigration lawyers or angry letters to MPs or copulation on the steps of the Home Office to prove our devotion. I simply sent them 58 new pieces of evidence. And one lovely letter of hearty endorsement from Rory.

You may ask why I didn't just send 58 pieces of evidence in the first place. But when the form requested "a minimum of 10 and ideally 20", somehow I missed the invisible sentence that followed, "and another 38 would be quite handy."

My advice to anyone planning to apply for permanent residency: start saving everything. Every bank statement, insurance policy, phone bill, Post-it note, parking ticket, Durex wrapper, milk carton, flat tyre and soggy teabag. Put it all in a big box and send it to the government. Recorded delivery, of course.

Gareth has already skipped off to see his solicitor. I personally wanted to go to Reno so we could end this charade in sunny Nevada where it all began. But now that I'm a permanent resident of Scotland I'm far too tight to fork out for airfares.

Seriously comrades, I'm happy. I love this wee country. Thank you for your kindness and tolerance during my moments of madness. You rule the school.