Grrr, it is Hallowe'en and once again I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING! at least last year Ev came round and we had a nice gossip. But this year I have a bloody rehearsal! Oh, the injustice! To console myself I'm going to watch lots of horror movies when I get back from it - The Exorcist - naturally, it's traditional, The Abominable Doctor Phibes, and Doctor Phibes Rises Again, and possibly Theatre of Blood too - Vincent Price Fest, hooray!, Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein - because need some classic Hammer, and Booooris always does it for me, perhaps Re-animator if there's time. I might even finally manage to watch Fiend Without A Face, which is still sitting there in its packaging. Oh! And Plan 9! To me, Plan 9 is what Hallowe'en is all about, the crappy effects, cardboard tombstones, the odd costumes, Criswell, the stupid dialogue etc.

Now all I need is a lot of novelty chocolate, some good booze, and a gorgeous girl to quiver in terror and cling attractively to me.

2 out of 3's pretty good. And it would be 3 out of 3 if said gorgeous girl didn't live in the wilds of Ashby-de-la-Zouch. I mean really, the place sounds French. It can't possibly be healthy to live in.

Sooo muuuch wooork. Just about finished Personal Statement, I think, apart from about two sentences. But nearly every sentence starts with 'I'! It's a horrible nightmare of I's! Must do something about it, and fast. And the UCAS form is bloody difficult to fill in, and so are the others. And then there's the essays. Which is actually what I'm going to do tonight when I get home, I've just remembered. I shall write some lightning essays, then shoot off and watch director's cuts versions of all the films (i.e. fastforward the crap bits*). And eat novelty chocolate and drink too much and have a horrible hangover tomorrow (unlikely, but you never know), and pretend gorgeous girl is not in the Midlands.

*Crap bits = bits which aren't gory.

My brother has an entire knight's outfit for the Lord Mayor's Show. It's amazing, he's going to look a right little bugger in it, even if our garage is now covered in pewter coloured spray paint. And I'm going to freeze my bottom off in that tiny maid's outfit. And there's a chance I'll be interviewed for the telly in it. Hell, hell, hell! Why does my first telly appearance have to be in a French maid's outfit accessorised charmingly with goosebumps and a huge feather duster? And I just KNOW the telly people will target me, because they're gits like that, aren't they?

Changing for rehearsal now. And I'm going to wear all black, and dark lipstick, and silly tights, because it is Hallowe'en, dammit, and it's only once a year and needs observing.

The dastardly history coursework has greatly interrupted my movie-fest. Alas, alas, woe, woe. Am progressing with it crawlingly, because the lovely Stuart is being distracting, so I'm going for short bursts of 30-50 words or so. Fortunately, it's only an 800 word one, so I might be done by 1.00.

I'm pretty pleased with the half-hearted Wednesday Addams-ish costume I came up with to go to rehearsal in. It made me feel better, anyway. And I don't get enough chances to wear pigtails.

Application stuff MUST be done tomorrow. And I must check my timetable tonight. Oh, how I am hoping it says 'History' first thing, so I can have a lie-in, because it's cancelled this week (joy!).

Discovered an old school skirt which can be dramatically shortened, so my Pansy costume is complete. Except for the fact that I might have to be there in subterfuge - The Mother is doing a remarkably good impression of the Homework Minotaur.

And where is Ev? I want you to read my personal statement, Ev. Preferably before the senior tutor reads it tomorrow. OK, I can see as we're getting on for 1.00 now there isn't going to be much chance of that, but y'know.

NaNo tomorrow. Am very excited to be finally implementing the Smug Plot. Although I probably won't be implementing it because I have so much bloody work. My mum isn't being a Homework Minotaur, but I really have to activate my own internal one. Work is catching up with me and I can't tell it that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy for much longer. It'd probably come out with some smart-arsed comment anyway. It isn't so much homework, I'm not too bothered by that, it's coursework. And applications. And...just eurgh. I'm doing too much. Or rather, I ought to be, which is infinitely worse. I'm pretty sure I know my first sentence for NaNo, but I'm not certain. Still, I have the whole college day tomorrow to finalise that.

Finishing the damned, damned essay. And going off for the (now sadly depleted, there just aren't enough hours in the night) film-fest. And then collapsing into fitful sleep and curling round the fur pillow in the hope it'll miraculously become person-shaped in the depths of night.

I am so fucking happy right now.

And I rarely swear.

More later, when I feel less tingly and full of homesickness. Yes, I know I'm at home, but if home is where the heart is, then it definitely isn't here.

Am sitting dripping on things after my shower and listening to the wind. I love the sound of wind and rain at night time, it helps me sleep. Or helps me think if I'm feeling insomniacky. Which I really am at the moment. Sleep seems to evade me in favour of extreme thinking. And I keep having weird and stupid dreams about the past. Or rather, things I should have dreamed about in the past. I think my dreams are still catching up with the last year of events!

Just watched the first episode of Bleak House. Dickens translates really well to television serieses. (Series'? Seri? Seriseseseses?) I feel terribly, deeply sorry for poor Mr Guppie. Esther was a total bitch to refuse him, although she does have certain endearing qualities. Or maybe I just think she does because she has big blue eyes and I'm having withdrawal symptoms. But eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, tomorrow! 'Sank 'eavenne, as Maurice Chevalier would say.

Is Maurice Chevalier still alive? I hope he is, as I rather liked him.

I'm so happy at the moment. In all the best/worst (depending on your point of view) sappy sorts of ways. I shall be putting flowers in my hair and singing and riding off into the sunset in no time if I'm not kept a careful eye on.

I did a painting earlier. It started out as a picture of Lauren Bacall from the film poster of To Have and Have Not, but then it sortof did a dramatic change in the middle, and now it looks more like Frida Kahlo than anything. I quite like it, though. I don't even know why I was inspired to do a painting at all. See the sappiness! Painting! I shall find myself procuring kittens and crooning at them next.

Must do some packing for tomorrow. Although I could really do it in the morning, as I don't have to leave until twelve, I feel like doing it tonight. It feels like it's bringing tomorrow closer in a way. I'm going to do what parents always tell children to do on Christmas Eve - 'the sooner you're in bed asleep the sooner tomorrow will come'. I'm going to work by that philosophy and get an early night.

And I have ditched the heated rollers, with many a scornful glance, and a singing of 'Bye Bye Mein Liebe Herr' from Cabaret, although definitely not accompanied by a sexy chair dance in suspenders. They don't deserve it! I shall do some plaits, and hope I turn out gorgeously wavy and don't have to ring a panic call to Neil tomorrow asking if he does house calls! (And if he has a makeup artist and a surgical corset on hand). I wish the God which has been so obliging with my Plot would lend a hand in making me look hot as well. Probably too much to ask, though.

My picture of Lizzy is staring at me accusingly. She has no right, I gave her more buttons, a skirt and a lace collar today, she should be grateful! Probably annoyed I didn't do a watercolour of her, and ended up with the Frida-ish girl instead.

Right! List-making! Hair plaiting! Bed! Tossing and turning and growing excitement!

KISS ME, HARDY!

(Really love that phrase at the moment, I think it's a great way of finishing things off.)

And also, kiss me, blog, I'll be away for the weekend!

Have done the e-mail and sent it too.

The Send Button did not bite, claw, or eat my eyes. I congratulate it.

I'm still picking mud out from under my fingernails from yesterday.

Photography at David's was great fun, I had a whale of a time. (Where did that phrase originate? I certainly didn't notice any whales, but y'know). Camilla was very nice, and we just clicked, and were talking about all manner of things in no time. The photos were good, too; we built a new loft-studio instead of the spare-bedroom studio, and cavorted around without much on, always good, always good. And in the afternoon we made makeshift fairy outfits and coathanger wings, painted our faces with watercolours, and rolled around in the mud and leaves outside. WHICH WAS SO MUCH FUN! I must commune with Nature more often, even if I did get filthy. Still, filth is good occasionally. And it gave me some Ideas, I can tell you!

I think I might be able to add pictures to this. I'll have a go, then all the odd spamming persons (and Ev) who view this can get an eyeful. Although I have a feeling this may be more widely viewed. I don't know how the fuck a link for this got on to Missives for Fictional Characters, but it did. I certainly did not intend that, but I suppose it doesn't particularly matter.

I can't add pictures. Oh well, I have a CD of them, and all concerned can see if they so desire.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god.

Deep breath.

With more oh my god's. I think my mother thinks I am mad. I have been going around the house/garden/streets/Southern Railways muttering this to myself over and over again.

No, I am not normally in the habit of invoking deities with great repetition. It's just - oh my god. You know, necessary. It saves trying to articulate any form of coherent thought.

My thoughts are spectacularly incoherent at the moment. They're all purple and red and dancing and happy little explosions and Handel's Messiah, with occasional spurts of NaNo plot. So, almost useful, really.

I still almost don't believe that this is real. I can't quite countenance that this is for me and not somebody else. It's like reaching out to touch something you're not quite certain is there. But then again, you really, really want to reach out for it and never let it go.

I must reply to the e-mail. It is Most Necessary! But knowing what to say is difficult. I'd rather wait, really, as Friday is only tomorrow. But I also want to reply to reassure myself and reassure you, if you need reassurance. And for other reasons. I know it only needs to be short, and then once I've written it there's the dilemma of how to hit Send.

This is not like me. I should not be scared of a Send button. Send buttons do not have fangs and claws.

(If they did they might be less scary.)

All is well. I know it is well. But I almost don't know.

Oh God.

Oh Bugger.

Only, really Not Bugger. Because this is all so strange and wonderful and above all a Good Thing, very probably the Best Thing.

Oh God.

Am returned from panto. There was much silliness, and singing! SINGING I TELL YOU!

There was the usual contrast between 'Pitch a Song Should be Sung At' and 'Pitch Jo Taylor Thinks a Song Should Be Sung At'. Let me tell you, the two are very far removed. My vocal chords are begging to be allowed to retreat quietly back down my throat where they belong. I attempted to do some without my script tonight. Hilarity, of course, ensued. Thus:

Ellie: (rushes on stage, jumps three feet in the air) HELLO EVERYBODY!!!

(Awkward silence.)

Ellie: Hello, Colin! Hello, Jill!

My theory: when in doubt, say hello. Needless to say, that wasn't in fact my line at all. Or even remotely approaching it. Pah, well, I tried.

Am feeling very hungry. Have come to the conclusion that paella is not even remotely filling. Have also come to the conclusion that I need to live on paella to make up for the meals I ate today and yesterday - bad, bad, bad Ellie. Must look gorgeous. Must look gorgeous. Preferably by Friday so I don't have to panic and enlist the assistance of an emergency make-up artist and a surgical corset.

Hmm, now I mention it...

I'm in the money again! (No, Ellie, this does NOT mean you can spend it on a makeup artist and a surgical corset!) I can happily sing 'Money Makes the World Go Round' from Cabaret without weeping into my soup.

I have never actually wept into my soup. Remind me to try that.

The Loft (capital entirely deserved) is to be braved in a minute. Must find some outfits (or rather, absence of outfits) for David's tomorrow. Camilla and I are going to have a merry dressing up session, should be very fun. Only problem is, I have to get up horribly early. And I'll have had a crap night's sleep because of the damned heated rollers. Three bloody times this week, three bloody times. When they said you had to suffer to be beautiful they never spoke a truer word. They were obviously talking directly about my heated rollers. Innocent and pale pink they may Look, but their hearts are Black. Hmph.

And ohgod, the Marauder-esque villains in my NaNo have ended up being called Jeremiah Green, Uriah Finney, and Tobias Pudd.

Say nothing.

It's better than Dulcibella, at any rate.

I should really never have been allowed to get a blog, I rant far too much!

Well, Carpe Diem. Or Carpe Loft-ulum. Although I rather fear if I were to attempt to seize the Loft, you would never see me more. It's a stronger stronghold than Troy, that Loft.

...probably a good thing for the Loft, on reflection.

I return triumphant from my dad's.

Well, not very triumphant. The shopping trip was probably the most unsuccessful I've ever been on! I couldn't even buy my staple Bad Shopping Trip item - Dorothy Perkins lacy knickers - because the DP there DIDN'T HAVE KNICKERS, THE CADS!

Although dinner at my dad's last night was lovely, we ate far too much and got completely wankered on apricot champagne, which is a gorgeous, gorgeous thing. I was tempted to run off with it, but y'know, principles, principles. I'm not a hussy, after all!

Am going to panto this evening, although really not in the mood.

Sent off that gorgeous 'Longing' card. Hope it is appreciated.

Paul did his Intervention. I really don't know where I am at the moment, everything-wise. Waiting with great anticipation for Friday, that's what. But my goodness, what am I going to Say? What am I going to Do? I think this is one moment in my life where I can't really have a plan. Ohshit. A Plan would be a lovely thing, you feel deeply supported when you've got one of those. I feel too precarious. And also still not sure, even though P&E have assured me many a time, and I've even seen almostevidence. I just can't quite credit that it's real and not just P&E's way of making me happy.

Three days, now. So not at all long, really.

And photos with David and Camilla tomorrow, fun fun!

ERGO ERGO for now, for dinner, dolling up, and panto-going must take place.

Morning, all!

Well, morning me.

I feel reasonably elated this morning. It's the combination of new bedroom (I swear, this room makes grey sexy), late night phone calls, rainy mornings and 4 days to go! And a couple of other things too. Have a gorgeous new skirt with flowers and glitter, and am off lunching and shopping with my Mother - lovely! Then staying with my Father, also lovely, and - yes, you guessed it - lunching and shopping with my Father tomorrow! All in all, a pretty good start to half term. I think I may be doing some sort of photographic joy with David on Wednesday, and hopefully meeting Camilla, which will be nice, if her evil dictator of a mother has allowed her to come.

There is to be an Intervention of Sorts, today, organised by the very dear Ev, and perpetrated by the very dear Paul. I'm...almost worried. But sort of not. I just don't want anything to mess up, you know? Also, may change gift idea. We shall see.

Have got a charming, although unfinished, drawing of my female heroine next to me. After much deliberation, we've decided she's to be called Lysistrata Veronica, Lizzy for short. All the names, and, surprisingly, the Plot have fallen into place really rather remarkably. Am vastly impressed with whatever deity decided to assist me with this!

Must go, for the donning of the gorgeous sparkly skirt, and breakfastings, and things. And shall return, preferably triumphant and laden with shopping bags, tommorow for panto rehearsal!

Oops, have just got a nosebleed. You don't see that every day!

Am now back from the Christening. Yes, it certainly deserves a capital letter! All Went Well, fortunately. The service was wonderful - a really Proper service, with lots of 'meet and right so to do's', which were vastly approved of in the right quarters! The charming rector did like to Go On, however. The Intercessions were seemingly endless, and certain heavy emphasisisises were placed, thus: 'We pray for the holy Catholick (note original spelling!) church, ESPECIALLY THE REFORMED BRANCH WHICH OUR CHURCH BELONGS TO'. And also, 'We pray for OUR COUNTRY, ENGLAND, andalltherestoftheunitedkingdomandnortherireland'. One was certainly sure where his allegiances lay!

My godmothering duties were beautifully executed. However, when it came to the congregations' rendetion of Veni Creator Spiritus, executed was the operative word! Executed and buried in an unconsecrated grave at the crossroads, with a stake through its heart! Ev much maligned me by Internally Sniggering when the Master was admonishing us godparents to make sure Miles grew up virtuous. Hmph, I know about being virtuous! I hath been a virgin from my tender infancy, chaste and immaculate in very thought (credit - Shakespeare)!

Now, the reception. There were lots of esteemeed personages there, including Lords, Right Honourables, and MP's. Although MP's aren't really distinguished, are they?! Ev and I were not precisely drunk, but we had the drink taken! It wasn't our fault, the waiter kept coming round with the champagne in a terribly obliging fashion, and we didn't want the poor man to get disheartened. We were all rather disappointed with the canapes, however. Lovely as they were, there simply weren't enough of them! All was lovely until I was approached by the Man In The Tie (Maddie: "Do you think he knows?") Fortunately I was saved from Dear Jeremy, but a rather geeky personage named Chrithtopher Jordan approached Ev and I in the middle of a theologicakl discussion. You can just tell when such persons want to join the conversation, they have That Look about them!But all is over now, and I am home and stocking up on food, as the canapes (can o' pees) won't sustain me through!

All is exciting on the Maddie front, her and Scott (as was of Katie) have been Behaving Improperly together! My blessings be on them, Maddie deserves something sensible. Someone, I should say. She definitely doesn't need Jon and Va acting like parents, and Aiden acting like...well, Aiden, which is bad enough by anyone's standards!

Have also been engaged in Talks with Ev. It is so nice to have Talks with Ev. Particularly as she knows what we are Talking about. There are putative plans for a general Paul-assisted prodding, which my blessing is on. All must surely come to light soon, pouncing or otherwise?

In other news, my NaNo plot goes well, and I have chapters from Ev to read, which is lovely and exciting. Simon has absolutely become Joseph now, and it suits him down to the ground, although I am emphatic that he is not going to be a blonde, angelic, pointy-of-featured choirboy-ish type. Goodness, we saw so many of those today! Positively waiting to be corrupted, I swear!Well, over and out for now, although I have realised saying that makes me sound tragically like an army or navy person. Perhaps I should finish on a Lord Nelson-ish note, to be topical of the current time, and simply say:

Kiss me, Hardy!

...or near enough!

Oh, shit. It looks as though it has happened, doesn't it? Well, here we are. It'll probably be the best kept secret the internet has ever hosted, but c'est la vie. I promised myself I'd never, ever do one of these, but Ev inspired me.

I can't precisely promise to be honest, but I'll be truthful, at any rate. Or possibly truthful without a shade of honesty.

This is really only to entertain myself as the Official Computer has Died a Death. Friends, Romans, Countrymen etc. The Laptop is slow and refuses to countenance such terrifying advances in technology as MSN Messenger, but at least I have computer-ish access. The Man (who Maddie tells me is frighteningly Mafioso - which I think is a good thing, as nothing short of a bullet from an Uzi could fix the Official Computer) is comunbg on Friday, so hopefully when I return from Ashby, there'll be either a fixed and severely chastised Official Computer, or a New and Shiny Computer. And it'd better be shiny, or I will cry tears of uranium and obliterate the world. Good times, good times.

Am planning a visit to the florists on Friday morning/early afternoon. Am sure that white really is the way to go. It feels right, anyway. Talking of things that feel right, things really must be said. But try as I may I just can't quite believe Paul and Ev. Not that they are remotely untrustworthy, they are lovely and I definitely don't tell them that enough, note to self etc. I just can't quite imagine it's true, because of all the...well, all the crap, really. Admitting I've made a monumentous mistake in my personal life for the last three or four years wasn't easy. It made me horrifically angry, and mainly at myself. And because of all that I can't quite seem to believe that something as good as this could happen. That it isn't for me, that I haven't been good enough to deserve it. The wages of sin, and all that. Although I probably don't quite qaulify for the wages of sin just yet. I certainly have the guilt needed, however! Ev says I have a built-in good host complex. I see what she means, but I just don't feel comfortable if I'm not perfectly certain everyone I'm in a room with isn't having a fairly alright time. I panic I'm neglecting them, or something.

Even now I'm feeling guilty for dwelling on me, me, me. And it's hardly as if it matters, here. After all, this is supposed to be my diary, and about me, me, me! And very possibly, nobody will find it! Ev might, because I found hers, and she'll probably be on the look-out from now on.

I had a pretty disturbing dream last night. Well, not precisely disturbing, just...wrong. Not even really wrong in that sense; I just didn't understand why I would dream about that. And even in the dream, even with things being the way they are now, it almost hurt (in the dream, that is). And when I woke up, I remembered dream-me feeling hurt, and that makes it harder to understand. Especially now, when I couldn't really care less about Subject of Dream. Perhaps it was a flashback dream. Who knows, eh?

6 days, now. 6 days isn't such a long time, and I'm aiming to keep them pretty full. Even though it feels like forever. Talking of feeling like forever - the funniest thing. I woke up on Friday morning, and I honestly couldn't believe it had only been the morning before. It felt like weeks ago. Ev had an excellent theory on the phone last night for why it felt like so long, but (shame on me) I've forgotten it! Even though I had the drink taken the night before, I hadn't taken that much, not enough to blur my memory. Perhaps it was the novelty Hallowe'en chocolate! Or just the business of the Costume Event. My mum put the little singing owl I got from Ashby castle in bed with me last night, and when I woke up I thought it was a person. Well, not just a person, but y'know.

I am going to do it next weekend. I must.

Christening tomorrow. Which will be horrifically awkward, ha. Still, I will look gorgeous!

This has turned out to be an incredibly long first post. Perhaps this blog thing isn't as frightening as I thought it would be! And paper diaries never work, after all.

Well, over and out.