It is a sad week this week.

I have not written about this yet as I have been in denial but it is no longer avoidable….

Boo is moving out of the House of Rats to live with her boyfriend Joe. I have a tear in my eye just thinking about it. From the early student days where we co-habited with a gay middle aged ex-Catholic priest (Michael) and the manic depressive head of the London Met student union (Richard), Boo and I have lived together in four houses over five years and it will not be the same without her.

Boudicca-Lee, although I am proud of you for taking it to the next level, I will miss you unbearably and am grateful for all the times we have spent together and all the things you have taught me. I salute you and wish you luck in sharing a bed & a kitchen with a man every night.(!)

Favourite Boo moments include –

Worrying about Michael as he rocked on the stairs of 13 Meath Road crying “Mummy, Mummy.”

Endless jokes of “escapeas”

Buying ten Es for Boo’s mum and then naughtily scoffing the lot in one fateful night

Attending the infamous gay orgy

Staggering home from an all night party in Hammersmith to find Boo baking apple crumble for us as a treat.

Working the bar at Reading, throwing up quite a lot, laughing at Little Chris (“I’m so horny I could shag a puppy”) and falling out with the Anarchists faction.

The afternoon where I met all of Boo’s family who were clearly thinking and hoping that we were a lesbian couple and settling down together “But darling, are you sure you’re not gay? I really wouldn’t mind” – Jan, Boo’s mum.

Staying up all night to finish our dissertations a week early (Why?!) and handing them in as soon as the office opened before going home to drink whisky, eat pizza, watch the Lion King on video and weep when Simba’s dad dies.

All the nights at Bedrock and Candybox where Boo stood in the corner and said in a very small voice, “I’m really drunk.”

The fateful Easter Sunday, where we knocked over loads of biscuit displays at the Spar and which ended up with me threatening Boo with a bread knife because she likes pop music - “Tell me you don’t like S Club 7!!” (Probably not her favourite memory, that one. Probably not mine either actually. Bad Jess.)

Perving on newbies at Ticketmaster during those long, boring shifts.mmmm.

Finding ourselves in a dirty acid techno rave on Stratford industrial estate at 9am on a Bank Holiday Monday morning swigging neat tequila from the bottle and dancing in a debauched trio with a wild tranny (Courts of course) while all the ravers looked at us in shock and disdain.

Boudicca, I love you man…