Ho hum.

So far, so good. Hobo is free of the breeder net and is swimming around the tank, exploring.

The current was way too strong for him so I've tied a bit of filter sponge over the filter outlet to disperse it a bit.

He's totally ignoring the other fish - for now, fingers crossed - but there's no guarantee I won't wake up and have either a traumatised Hobo or traumatised guppies. But it is promising that the only thing he's flared at so far is a shrimp, who didn't really care. Or notice. Shrimp don't notice much.

Dad is bringing over my hooj tank tomorrow so that will give me something to do on my DAY OFF on Monday *squeal*.

Hobo:

I've got a new phone, because my old phone decided it was tired and didn't want to play anymore. The new one is the same as my old one, but it's a different colour. It's from eBay, because Orange said they would charge me £60 to repair or replace it, and it would be classed as a new phone, thus making me ineligible for an upgrade in six months. They've got answers and sneaky plans for everything, haven't they?

Anyway, spent £40 on a second hand one on only six months old itself, in good nick, and if it decides to die...meh. Should last til September and then I can get a new shiny one

Anyway (again), you'd think if you were selling a phone you'd take a few minutes to delete any photos on it? Apparently not. They're all very silly - a woman in a silver wig wearing only a towel, etc. I suspect the phone may have been owned by a fellow Les Bean.

But!

Rejoice!

Mystereh kitteh!

She is veh cute I'm keeping these ones!

I gave up on the photos

I am writing to request you solve a mystery that has been a blight on my life for a whole ten minutes.

Every photograph I attempt to take of any of my fish looks simply dreadful. I cannot understand the cause for this. I have everything I need in order to take the photos:

Limited patience.
A poor camera, with buttons I have never pressed.
An abundance of direct sunlight shining upon an acrylic tank full of water, housing
Moving, iridescent aquatic life, which includes
Two interesting looking, but almost clear, shrimps.

I would therefore like to discuss the possiblity of either a) you taking them for me (I hear your lens is very long, you could probably reach from all the way down there), or b) telling me how to do it mysef.

My rates for your services are minimal - I wouldn't expect you to spend more than a few quid, at the most.

In anticipation of your reply,

Ms S.U.P.

...in 30 seconds.

I also very much enjoy:

http://www.angryalien.com/aa/brokebackbuns.asp

http://www.angryalien.com/aa/marchpengbuns.asp

http://www.angryalien.com/1005/wowbuns.asp

http://www.angryalien.com/0804/jawsbunnies.asp (click on the white bunny at the end...)

And many, many more.

Good afternoon! I am cheerful today, and ready to shit in the beard of anyone who pisses me off.

The essay is submitted - before midday, I might add - and to reward myself for getting it done (ignoring the fact that it was already a week late with only nine hours to go), I went to buy a guppy.

Here I must interject with some truly tragic news - beloved EJ, purple fishy extraordinaire, swam to the paddyfields in the sky two days ago. He got ill, and there isn't much you can do for fighters when they're ill, the fussy devils. So, he died. I shrugged a lot.

So I walk into the lovely fish shop, walk to the guppy tank, and stare at a load of platties, who stare right back at me. No male guppies! Not one! Unheard of!

"But I can't leave without something, I've got all fishhappy", I said. Music to the owner's ears, obviously.

"Try some Endler's?" he said? I had a peek into the tank he gestured at and saw these delightful little things:

Related to guppies, and about the same size as a neon tetra. I now own three. They look similar to this, but mine are mainly orange and white, hardly any black. Veh, veh, veh cute. Breed like rabbits, so just got males.

"I bought a fighter last week" I said. "It's dead now. I didn't do anything wrong. *hint hint grin*.

Adamant that he does not sell sick fish - which is true - he said he'd give me another one for free. Instead of putting him in the little tank on his own, I shall put Hobo - good name, don't argue - in the community tank too. He seemed to be getting along ok with the ones in the store tank, so I'll risk it. My guppies are feisty though, especially Maurice, and they could well nip his fins. The spare tank can be a back up. Also, as it was a second hand tank, there could well be a lingering nasty that killed EJ. It's not worth the risk. Hobo will spend the next two days living in a breeding net hanging in the tank to get used to the other fish without being able to kill them, and I'll see how he gets on.

Incidentally, he's yellow, with bronzey fins with streaks of bright blue running through them. He looks scruffy but fun, hence the name. I'll be putting a picture up soon.

So, I have a fish happy, no essay to do, a nap to look forward to, and nothing can bring me down.

(Apart from being on duty tonight. Booooo.)

Essay: done. Pre-3am finish! That's not bad for me, it's usually bordering on 5am. I seem to be going to bed about this time a lot anyway these days, so I'm not even fussed!

The essay is diabolical. I know I always say that, but I let my sister read the first half of it to spot any glaring spelling errors etc (it helps that she has no idea what I'm talking about - likewise, I read her sport and nutrition essays...) and she declared it to be "a bit wank, for you". She's naught but honest, that girl.

Oh well. I presume it's passable, I'm not that much of a 'tard, and seeing as that's all I need to manage, that's good enough for me

Did I mention that my next one is due on the 20th February? ...Shall ignore that for now.

Nighty night.

Well, maybe there is, but lately, seeing this gets me pretty excited. <competitive geek>

Yahoo! Answers: Your answer has been chosen as the best answer!

Mmmmmmm, smugness. Just call me rodent knowledge queen.

So, anyone looking for a way to spend a slow afternoon at work? Voila.

...that I can't stop listening too. Found a decent performance on Jools, so a nice opportunity to look at the delectable Brandon.

I have hair like the guitarist today.

...in more ways than one. I'm a quarter of a way through my essay and it's only just gone midnight, the night is still young to me.

Prompted by recent discussions by my good friends AJ and QueeneMab, I thought I'd stick my two knut's worth in. (Yes, knuts. Look it up, literary philistines. Nothing to do with polar bears, either.)

I know I'm not around as much as I used to be. I was looking at some of my posts from this time last year, both public and private (and pre-arse-breaking fall) and although it's obvious to me now that I was really very depressed, at least I was writing, long explanatory posts about my brainache, short little snippets from work, lots of stuff about fluffy things - however annoying it may have been, I was blogging.

What's changed? I can't say I'm busier, I can't say I have nothing to talk about. I simply don't feel an incentive to anymore. Take this essay for example - irrespective of the moaning about leaving it to the last minute, I could've talked about the subject matter, picked my own brains as it were. I could talk about my classes. I could talk about stuff that happens at the hall. My sister still doesn't know if she has cancer - I could rant about my disgust at the NHS for keeping a twenty year old waiting over six weeks for such a diagnosis. But why? What's the point? No one needs to know this, and that's the trouble - it's stopped being about what I want to write, and it's all become very self-concious for me. Private posts seem like a cry for attention, and invariably I disagree with any advice people give me about things - usually because they're right and I hate being wrong - so I try not to do many of those.

It doesn't help that SO MANY PEOPLE off blog - 'in real life' - read this. They have every right to, and it's not difficult to find me really, given my face is glaring out in the top left of the page. I say that with gritted teeth - there's a fine line between accidental stumbling-upon and spying - but it's true. I have three choices: ramble away about personal stuff and not care who reads it, ramble away in private posts about things and feel bad about drawing people's attention to it in such a specific way, or just keep quiet about everything and post crap. Not hard to figure out which choice I've gone for, is it?

As I said on other posts, this place reminds me of one of the fishkeeping forums I frequent (yes - I'm THAT much of a geek, and yes, I feel the need to justify it). It's always the same names everywhere. The same frequent posters, the same people who go quiet for ages and then have a flurry, the same people that cause trouble, the same people waiting in the wings ready to pounce and become flavour of the month, the same people saying "Lol" to every post for want of something useful to say, the same people on the front page. There are many new blogs out there but it is hard to find them amongst all the shite, and advertising blogs, and spam accounts. It's nice to be part of a clique but that does make it rather difficult to join another one.

I wonder if anyone would notice that I left. Even now, I feel horrible writing that. Ego alert! I'm sure people would, but for how long? I think about all the other people that used to be around a year or two ago and how much we would comment on each other's blogs, and then they left...I can't even remember their usernames.

I simply don't have the same relationship with this place anymore, and it makes me sad. I don't want to leave, I have no plans to, but at the same time, I wonder...is there any point staying? I'm sure there is, I'm just trying to work out what that is again.

------------

I miss you, Kelly. I hope you're reading this. I miss what you brought to this place.

I defy you not to bop to this, my favourite song of late, that doesn't fail to cheer me up, and makes me sway all over the place - no matter how often I hit repeat

It's not a single, so no video, but meh...no one will listen anyway

Essays don't write themselves, you know, and in order to get on with it I always require a variety of snacks scattered around me - NOT in the kitchen, apart from fridge goods, as there must be minimal excuse to leave the desk apart from bathroom/fish-gazing breaks. Having braved Hull Perma-Drizzle(c) to get to Somerfield before it shuts, I now have scattered around me:

2 x tubes of Rice Pringles
1.25 litres of Diet Coke - ho ho, share size my arse
Chocolate raisins
Fun size variety bag comprising: Milky Ways, Milky Way Stars, Maltesers, Mars Bars and Starburst Opal Fruits.
Mock Bountys.
Polos
Chewing Gum

In the fridge:

Lots of ham.
Lots of chicken.
Yogurt.

Do not forget the pre-toast, or 'bread' as some people call it.

No, don't be silly, I'm not going to eat it all tonight! Some of it's for tomorrow night.

Tonight's music selections comprose of all four Kings of Leon albums - shuffled - followed by all of Elbow's albums - shuffled - followed by all of Muse's albums - shuffledish - followed by all of the Killers' albums - very shuffled - interspersed with Interpol and Glasvegas. Should see me through.

Right, by my calculations, I have to average around 260 words an hour, and so far it's taken me all day to write 263.

And hurrah - I'm finally entering the stage where I stop panicking and start considering myself some kind of stifled genius who is compelled to write works of...well, genius, who likes to set 24 hour deadlines. Something like that.

(Thank fuck I'm not at work tonight.)

I'm miserable, so I'm looking at pictures of Hans. This is my favourite video of Hans. I miss him

The other night he was running around the living room and pulled mum's bag of chocolate raisins off a shelf, spilling them all over him and ending up in the bag himself he is the BEST hamster EVAH.

Working on it, anyway...

Witness pick 'n' mix chocolate porn.

And with the slabs a 'snip' at a mere £1.50 each, I think I know how I'll be rewarding myself for...well, anything. Getting up in the morning, perhaps. Voila, I'm dressed - have a slab. Brushed my hair - slab time. Etc.

I had about 4 hours sleep last night.

I had roughly the same the night before.

And the night before. I need a minimum of 8 hours a night. Minimum! MY EYES HURT. IT ALL HURTS.

I'm on duty today. (Do. Not. Want.)

I appear to have eaten something that has turned my gut into a slurry factory. This astounds me as I'm sure I've only eaten toast for days.

EJ has ich, and I have no salt.

I still haven't tecnically started typing this blasted essay.

And Becky didn't pass her Army tests. After months of worrying how I'd react, turns out I am disappointed for her, and not glad.

I'm sleeping until 2pm tomorrow, and no one shall stop me.

...because I'm at work, trying to do coursework, and don't want to anymore.

Do you ever get "​​​​good m​ornin​g"​​​​ texts​ from anyon​e?​​​​
Sometimes.

Who last texte​d you?
Landers.

What time did you go to sleep​ last night​?​​​​
4am.

What woke you up today?
An exceptionally brave student at 6am, asking me to let her back into her room, obviously feeling she was exempt from the large red letters on my door that say "4AM - 8AM: IN EMRGENCIES ONLY!!!". I swore at her. But let her in.

When was the last time you talke​d to your best frien​d?​​​
Yesterday.

What was your dream​ about​ last night​?​​​​
I don't think I was asleep long enough to dream.

Are you curre​ntly frust​rated​ with a girl?​​​​
Yes.

Are you curre​ntly frust​rated​ with a boy?
No.

How is your hair right​ now?
A curly mess as usual, in dyer need of re-dyeing.

Do you prefe​r to call or text?​​​​
Text, always.

Last time you slept​ over at someb​ody'​​​s house​?​​​​
Early January, Bek's house, following late night cinema trip.

Are you a bad influ​ence?​​​​
Probably

When was the last time you went shopp​ing?​​​​
Wednesday 14th January. I bought clothes. If you mean online shopping...well I usually buy something every other day.

Did you laugh​ a lot at somet​hing today​?​​​​
Landers texts!

What'​s​ bothe​ring you right​ now?
That I suspect I'm going to be back to square one with the essay, only with no chance of an extension this time.

What were you doing​ last night​ at 11?
Lettering the Scary Lesbian Security Guard into a block where she had 'lost' her master key while 'patrolling', ie, shagging a student. Gross.

Who was the last perso​n you took a pictu​re with?​​​​
If fish don't count, Becky.

Think​ back five month​s ago, were you singl​e?​
Yes.

Who can you blame​ for your bad mood today​?​​
Ignorant, noisy students.

What do you prefe​r,​​ Skitt​les or Starb​ursts​?​​
Starbursts Opal Fruits!

How was last night​?​
Long

How do you feel right​ now?
Wishing that I'd moved to Manchester, free of essays and weekends on duty, but flowing in wine and curry.

Do you think​ someo​ne is think​ing about​ you right​ now?
Probably. Statistically speaking.

Could​ you go the rest of your life witho​ut smoki​ng a cigar​ette?​
Yes.

Are you a jealo​us perso​n?​

Does it take a lot to make you cry?
I'm more likely to get pissed off and loud, I tend to cry at stupid things but argue at people.

Who was the last perso​n you texte​d?​
Landers. Funny that.

Have you ever read an entir​e book in one day?
Yes, many many many times, especially Harry Potter(s).

Think​ a lot befor​e you sleep​?​
Depends on how tired I am. I try not to.

Hold hands​ with anyon​e in the past 2 weeks​?​
Yep.

Ever dyed your hair?​
I have no idea what the natural colour is beyond what sticks out of my roots every 6 weeks.

What'​s runni​ng throu​gh your mind right​ now?
My back hurts and I'm hungry and I'm pissed off with Orange and I wish my phone worked properly.

Do you have a frien​d of the oppos​ite sex you can talk to?
A fair few.

Are you someone who worries quite often?
Yes, needlessly, though I am getting better and tend to get cross with myself and others who worry over nothing.

Have you ever kisse​d someo​ne whose​ name start​ed with a K?
That's so random and I wish I could say yes.

Is there​ anybo​dy you wish you could​ be spend​ing time with right​ now?
MANY people.

What does the sixte​enth text in your inbox​ say?
"Kill her." It's from my sister.

Have you ever falle​n aslee​p in someo​ne'​s arms?​
Unlikely, I'm an incredible fidget.

Do you wish someo​ne would​ call or text you right​ now?
Yes. Anyone.

Is your life anyth​ing like it was a year ago?
NO, and I should've PAID FUCKING ATTENTION TO WHAT WAS GOOD ABOUT IT.

Where​ will you be a year from now?
Destitute, in either this hall or another one, complaining about an essay.

...from 1987.

I was 3!

Landers, etc.

1. What was your favourite childhood TV or radio programme?

Ruddy hell. I'm not even going to attempt to narrow that down. Raggy Dolls, Button Moon, Finger Mouse, Teabag (*snort*), Fun House, Incredible Games, Bertha, Super Ted, Pigeon Street... I better stop. I can't. Animals of Farthing Wood, Will o' The Wisp, The Shoe People...

2. Did you have a favourite book as a child?

Oh gawd. Anything. Literally anything that was written down and readable. The Mallory Towers series by Enid Blyton, anytinng by Roald Dahl, and - this might explain a few things - the village library had to keep ordering more Stephen King stuff for me, while I was still in primary school.

3. When playing which superhero were you?

I wasn't the superhero. I was the rescuee. "Help, help handsome boys!".

4. Who was your best friend as a child?

Matthew (full on doctors and nurses experince there, ew), Shobna, Mhari, Gemma (still is!), Vicky, Laura, Becky (yeah that one).

5. Complete this sentence as though you were a child again. "When I grow up I want to be..."

Stephen King, or a vet.

My new flat has a landline that works (unlike my old flat) but I haven't as yet given out the number to anyone - primarily because I don't want anyone to call me. Ever.

This has not deterred a number of mystery callers who have decided to call me anyway.

So no, Mr Lisp, I am NOT "Thpecthavers in Leedth?". (Leeds?! How did you call Hull by mistake?!)

No, Croaky Man, I am not "the chemist". (Code? Who knows.)

And no no no, Haughty Bitch, I am not the goddamn "Police?". (Though the temptation to pretend...)

Henceforth, the phone shall be unplugged and used as a paperweight.

[tediousness]

It's 13.08, and for breakfast, I am having uber scuba dooba porridge.

[/tediousness]

Sigh.

Back to the grind...

Now if only I'd known about this CD earlier, that essay could've been done WEEKS ago!

No more self-doubt!

No more confusion!

I AM THE GREATEST WRITER IN THE WOOOOOOORLD!!!

The man ruled the world!

I like to think that history books will chapter him as "Bush: The Man Who Beggared Belief".

(Had a nice little sing along to this back in October, in Manchester, with Ms TheBoat.)

...passing the gun from father to feckless son...

Hurrah for easy to obtain coursework extensions.

I have an extra week to do my essay!

Can I get a "Whoop, whoop"?

No?

No. Best not ever say that again.

Now - I really must crack on with these biscuits, and I have a nap to do as well.

Ladies and gentleman - I have until Thursday to do a 3000 word essay on two Victorian autobiographies I haven't read.

I am at work right now, and tomorrow, and Tuesday evening, and Wednesday evening.

This horror has just hit me smack in both temples. I may have audibly exclaimed "Fuckity cuntflaps".

All donations of coke - any kind - gratefully received.

Thank you in advance, and goodbye for now.

1) I cannot - I CANNOT - stop eating fun size Crunchies. (I'm not really trying that hard to stop, in fairness.)

2) When was the last time you heard of anyone getting a splinter? Why don't people get splinters anymore? I genuinely cannot remember the last time I heard "Oof - damn, a splinter". Mystery.

It's a slow day today. Lots of work to do.

First, though, I have to go and find a sand pit to stick my head in.

I really, really want to see this - not least because of how much I fancy James Corden

Srsly. Awesome.

This mini-rant is irrational, it's unfair, it's unneccesary - it is, therefore, everything I have come to expect of myself, and therefore you should expect it too.

I'm really getting annoyed by somebody who is just everywhere.

Any post, any comment: there.

Buddybuddybuddy, chummychummychummy. ALWAYS THERE.

Worming in, sneaking, creeping.

Sigh.

Never mind.

The less time I spend here, the less I'll get annoyed by it, and the less annoying I'll be in turn.

Everyone wins!

Especially them.

Brain feels...fused.

May shut down for a bit *flicks off switch on temple*

I just keep watching EJ.

Pretty.

Here, etc, etc.

1. Margerine or butter?
CLOVER. Buttery marg!

2. Tesco or Asda?
I long for either. Not being able to drive, I only have access to BASTARD SOMERFIELD. I hate Somerfield. I like Tesco.

3. Night in or night out?
Night in. Nights out cost money.

4. Cinema or DVD?
Cinema, I never rent DVDs. I buy way too many. WAY too many.

5. Relaxing holiday or adventure holiday?
When/If I go on holiday, I'll let you know how it went, and which I would prefer. I think I already know that I would prefer to do as little as possible.

My new fish, Elton - or EJ as I have started to call him - likes to try and attack his reflection, because he is a Betta, and that's what they do. You're not supposed to show them their reflection more than once a day, as flaring so often can stress them out. It's pretty though, so...I'm trying to get it down to twice a day...

He thinks he is a scary beast. He isn't.

Poor quality camera phone, but I don't care

He isn't black, he's deep purple, with mustardy tinges to his fins.

Maurice, my new blue guppy, is not as interesting as EJ, but he does seem to be in love with William, which is nice. They're on my desk by my laptop, in a laughable attempt to inspire myself into doing some work by gazing at a relaxing fish tank. Ha!

I have just seen an advert on TV for a CD that has me muddled.

It is for 'Donk' music.

Pardon?

Donk?

Am I really getting THAT old that some of the younger folk favour a genre of music that I have never heard of?!

Upon further investigation, though, I am not missing out.

Good heavens.

Fetch me my grammophone and ear trumpet at once, and I shall put a bangin' donk on it. Or summat. Hahahaha - sick.

WHAT THE FUCK?

Yes, I have been very quiet - thank you to whoever it was who tagged me. I have been busy. I don't like it either.

I have two new fish. Maurice and Elton.

Off to work again now - uber lame.

Back soon y'all x

And that's really all there is to it, isn't there?

AKA, moving respite. *Knackered*.

Behold.

1. Is it time to change the name of the "mobile phone" as they are now more than just a phone?

No. It's usually just a 'mobile' these days. Plus there are a great many mobiles out there that are still just phones! I know, it's amazing, but true.

2. Do you take your mobile phone on holiday with you?

Holiday? Hmm? Yes, of course I do would.

3. If you phone runs out of battery life is it a mishap or the most worst thing that can happen... ever?!

It's the most annoying mishap ever. I solve this by taking my phone charger with me quite often. Sad, I know, but the actual worst thing that could happen...ever is not being able to get in touch with me. I wouldn't deprive people in such a way.

4. If they're not playing the latest chart topper then it's some other electronic rubbish so is it wrong to say "I'll give you a ring!" when phones don't actually ring these days?

Mine vibrates. Gimme a buzz!

5. Complete this sentence "My mobile phone is..."

...surgically attached to my thumb.

I really hate moving. I won't dwell on that. You know that.

I probably would've made things easier for myself by actually packing things up though. Instead, I seem to have gone for a method involving a backpack and two carrier bags. My room is such a mess that I'm having to climb over things to get from one side to the other. So, I have started at one end, and irrespective of what items I come across, it all gets chucked in the backpack and carrier bags, then I trundle over to the other flat (which is so clean and smells so non-catlike!), tip it out, and return for more.

Slowly clearing a path.

I feel like a bewitched Sorcerer's Apprentice broom. Fantasia. Remember?

I wanted to try and get it all done today. ALL OF IT. I'm not going to work tonight. I packed my work ethic some time ago. It's buried under a pile of comedy DVDs.

Bollockymoo to today!

Genius here has decided to move flats. Today. Another warden left, and her flat is better than mine, so, like a hermit crab, I'm moving in before someone else does.

Except, I have decidedly more SHIT to move than a hermit crab.

And I'm not sure hermit crabs keep fiddly tropical fish as pets, either.

I have packed one suitcase, though! Go me! It does, however, only contain towels, bedding, and clothes I never wear. Essentials, then.

I might take all my photos and posters down. Rooms always look half packed up after that, don't they?

I had a natter with the cleaners this morning after they had finished cleaning the other flat after the previous occupant. They were aghast at the state it had been left in, and it took them nearly three hours to do, bless them.

"It stank! Oh, it were 'orrible! An' there were this powder stuff everywhere..."

"Well, she had had kittens in there for a couple of months- "

"Kittens! BLOODY CATS!? I told yer, Sue! I told yer! CAT LITTER! CAT SHIT!"

"Well I'm glad it was cats, Jan, I'm glad - else I could've sworn she were shitting on't'bathroom floor herself. Human litter tray."

Apparently they also kept finding shit on the stairs leading up to the flat. They kept reporting it so that the students could be charged for the mess. Obviously it was from a split bin liner or something. ("I said - didn't I say? How'd a ruddy cat get in here n'why's it shitting on the stairs?!")

Mysteries solved, they chuntered off down the corridor, and the flat is free for me to move into.

Which I shall do.

After I've packed.

After I've finished sitting in a towel for another half an hour.

Sigh.

I suddenly feel very, very old.

The News Feed on my Facebook page has just informed me that two people are now friends - V.T and K.T.

V.T is a friend from school.

K.T is the son she had when she was sixteen (in labour on the first day of our GCSEs! Bitch.)

The boy is a baby! How can he have a Facebook profile!? Oh no, that's right - he's nine now.

(Still too young, I know, but shh, heed my point.)

While at home, my friend G was showing me some photos and asked if I remembered her baby cousin M. "God, yeah, he must be about 7 or 8 now isn't he?". She showed me a photo of him. "He's 14. M is 14 now.".

We sat in very thoughtful silence for a few moments before I gave the only suitable reaction: "SHIT!". She simply put her hand on my arm, and nodded.

He was born when we were TEN YEARS OLD.

Sigh.

Slow down. All of it, slow down.

My Leeds Lesbians have split up, thus heralding the end of hope for relationships everywhere.

Six years living together, house, dog, rabbits, guinea pigs, shared finance, Italian lessons for The Move To Italy, holidays in far flung corners of the world in order to follow casts of their favourite musicals, and possibly the closest matched personalities of any two people on the planet...whoosh, gone. One has told the other (my dear old friend, C) that she doesn't love her anymore, two days after getting back from the surprise trip to Italy for the new year that H bought for her. So, that's nice.

It never fails to amaze me how many people can fall out of love with someone and carry on treating them in exactly the same way for months, years even, and then think it will all be ok when they one day decide to tell them that they've changed their mind.

A delectable punch-in-the-stomach feeling. Personally, I also vomit, for that added dramatic touch.

H has been part of C's life daily for eight years and she's not entirely sure how to function as an individual. I told her not to worry about that right this second and to concentrate on trying to eat more than a single crisp today. She cried a bit more. I cried too. I feel so sorry for her. They were NEVER supposed to end.

But, one good thing. H never wanted to go to Australia with C. So, C has sent off for a Visa this morning. I cannot place that girl in the Outback for one second - a distinct lack of Julie Andrews, lemon chicken and the cast of Wicked, for instance - but I can think of worse ways for someone to figure out who they actually, really, truly are as an individual than to be dropped onto that bizarre lump of land for a year or so.

Waterford Wedgwood has gone now, eh? My mum used to collect all that.

It's all getting a bit fun now, isn't it? It's like a nationwide guessing game we can all play with ourselves. My money is on Wilko's next, by the way. No real reason, other than it's as shit as Woolies was, but even more pikey. Also, the Grimsby branch used to scare me, and smelt really bad. The only thing I recall ever purchasing from there was a white nail scrubber in the shape of a dog. See? It's shit.

I can't take the situation seriously when a bored-looking news reader says "Company X has called in the administrators...". I can't help but picture a group of women (aged 25 - 40, dressed various degrees of formality according to whether they have 'senior' tacked to the front of their job title) marching into a room, waving bits of paper and carrying box files, barging perplexed and harrassed-looking managers (men) out of their way, sweeping stuff off desks and tutting loudly. "Cocked it up? *Sigh*. Put some coffee on, it's the least you can do while we save your asses - again."

Administrators rule.