Oh my God, what a shite day. Woke up an hour and a half after I was sposed to this morning. This meant I was very late for the dentist. She then decided to punish me by causing me the most pain I’ve ever had, and I’m not joking. My mouth is still bleeding six hours later. So……..that was loads of fun. Now I’m at work and have just had a row in front of the whole office with our box office manager. He is the most unreasonable man in the entire world. Usually I can put up with him, but today I lost my cool and raised my voice. (Probably cos my mouth’s on fire) He’s such a twat!! I am still fuming as I type. Anyway, I better take my rage over to the concert and start setting up……………….. He is such a twat though.

Have just read my friend Boo’s diary entry concerning Friday night when she and my other friend Liam came back to mine after the Rhythm Factory. Was very sweet of her to say that my room was cosy etc. What she didn’t mention was that I forced them to listen to David Bowie’s Greatest Hits 1964-1979 with an endless running commentary from me on each song. Liam just had a smoke and ignored me ( I think he switched off around ’66), but Boo put up with me till 4ish when she went to get the night bus.

It was lovely of her to humour me, especially as she’s heard it all many, many times before. Once Boo left, me and Liam curled up and went to sleep and then went for a pub lunch with Egg in the morning. That was quite enjoyable until a dribbling old man came and gave us some wise words (eg drunken nonsense). The pub was a Wetherspoons so I wasn’t that surprised at the dribbler, but I nearly threw up when he actually spat on me. My hangover just couldn’t cope with that so I said goodbye to Liam and went home. Me and Egg played a few rounds of Tekken (I thrashed her), and then we had a little nap. So, disregarding the dribbler incident, it was a pretty perfect Saturday.

Can’t believe the extent to which my New Year’s resolutions have already been ruined. Both Friday and Saturday night were spent up until 4am drinking and smoking. Sunday I woke up about midday with the vilest head ever. After about half an hour of lying in my bed willing myself into an upright position, I decided I needed some attention from my flatmate Captain Egg. Her head was clearly in a similar state to mine, as her first words upon waking were: ‘Please, somebody, shoot me now…’ I really don’t know why we do it to ourselves. But the topic of broken New Year’s resolutions is both unoriginal and boring; so I’m not gonna dwell on it.

Me and Egg managed to sort ourselves out in the end anyway, with a delicious traditional Sunday curry in the local Biryani House and then video plus duvet on the sofa. This time tested remedy worked a treat until it was time to open the wine again.