A while ago I received this handy good wife guide. It was in the hands of an angry female colleague shocked at the subservient domestic home goddess approach displayed therein. I started reading it and became not a little impressed with the sound advice offered by the author. Then I noticed that it is dated 1955. I hope attitudes haven't changed since then. I must show it to Laura and pin it up on a wall in a prominent place or something, after all, we will be getting married and I hope she gets it tight. Click here or on the image to see the full version.

Something that Laura will definitely not be allowed to see is this. It is a sad and shocking indictment of Christian womanhood and perfectly explains the demise of religion in the West. Well it does if it's true.

I have left Costa Rica for the last time, for a long time. Someone new will soon be enjoying the views over Santa Ana from what was my terrace. It was sad to leave, somehow I feel cheated, I never had the time to get that motorcycle and explore the mountains as I had wanted. I left some things at the apartment, the landlady said goodbye to me and gave me a painting from the apartment that I had always liked.

I got to the airport and the problems started, a change in dates meant a charge had been added to the already enormous excess baggage fee and this needed to be paid in cash as my credit card doesn't seem to work at San Jose airport, even though it works everywhere else. This was sorted out by Pauline, the formidable yet diminutive New Yorker that arranges all my travel. She is phenomenally cool at fixing flights and someone that should you work in the industry, you should treat with the greatest respect. It took two hours to sort this out and in compensation they upgraded me to Business Class. The company I worked for always flew me cattle class, the Directors however were unable to lower themselves for this economy and most of them were unaware that there was anyone sat behind the curtains on the plane. Due to the recent terrorist scare in London, security had been tightened to the point that the queue stretched out of the airport. On arrival at Toronto Pearson airport at the centre and unconnected terminal, I positioned myself on the bus to terminal one so that I would be at the front of the queue at immigration control. I wasn't. I had landed just after two Jumbo jets full of visiting school children from China and Singapore. Everyone of whom was sent through to the interview room to have a chat with another one of the semi-evolved chimps of the Canada Border Services Agency as I was. Most of them were in front of me in the queue and I had to wait an hour to repeat the same thing to another one of these mentally subnormal cretins, that unable to get a real job, decided to work for the gorvernment. I couldn't phone Laura, who was waiting for me as they block cellphones in that room. The CBSA guy did, he asked if she knew me and what I did for a living and other questions that would safeguard the country of Canada from IT Project Managers and other people that know what they are doing. Eventually he stamped my passport for 6 months as they always do and I went through and answered the same question set with another group of these sphincter probers at customs. Two and a half hours after landing, I finally emerged from the arrivals doors to be greeted by Laura. She was looking phenomenal, elegant and refined in a black dress and some rather naughty shoes she had bought before I'd left for Costa Rica the previous week.

Between the two of us, we have moved out of three apartments in the last three weeks. Tomorrow, we leave for the UK and by the end of next week we'll be in Spain where we shall enjoy the last rays of summer while awaiting the next job. Which could be anywhere.