I sit on the tram wearing my full Chav gear of tracksuit bottoms and Addias t-shirt, holding the new Argos home catalogue, the paper part of my driver's license, proof of address, myDenver Broncos hat, £300 in cash and a tin of condensed milk. I think back to last weekend when this weekend started in earnest.

"Are you doing anything next weekend?" my Sister said.

Fully expecting to be offered company for Snakes on a Plane or to be given the excuse to have a take away, I say "No not really doing anything."

"Well I'm moving back to Hull next weekend and I need someone to drive the truck." she says. Right now, I suddenly remember everything I have to do - shopping, cricket and well anything else but helping a family member move house. "Dad's got in early with his excuse and him and Mum are going to meet our big Sister and babysit for her."

Damn, what a good excuse. There are two kids and two of them, maybe I should go as injury cover just in case one of them pops a shoulder out.

So a week full of typical house buying activity followed - purchasing cupboards, buying beds, finding out that there won't be a cooker, waiting three extra hours for the keys because the person they were buying the house off forgot to drop them off with the Landlord and ended up taking them to Wakefield and of course they leave it till the last minute to get the Van booked.

After being surprised that after a dozen phone calls she can't book a Transit Van with 2 days notice, my sister phones me with the news that the van is booked. So I am travelling to my Canadian Girlfriend's house, who conveniently lives within walking distance of the Van Hire place. Which is her second best assest. After her breasts.

Now it would be very easy to start making jokes about Britain's "Crap Town" Hull like saying that although it's not the end of the world - you can see it from there. Is it the sort of place that the seagulls actually fly upside down and an atom bomb would do £100,000s worth of improvements? I had heard that it's so shit there, Starbucks only opened 35 coffee shops and that after losing the title of Britain's fattest city to Bradford, they have been staging open air pie guzzling championships every third Sunday.

But to tell you the truth, I've never been there and I'm quite looking forward to seeing if it is actually worse than Stockport.