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.