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.