My god, it's been a tiring afternoon. Managed to teach the chorus Ccheek to Cheek, after a lot of fuss, and Chris and Irene? Eileen? (something like that) still can't get it. But it exists, and all is reasonably beautiful. We're running Act 1 next weekend, ha. And of course my dad is kicking up a ginormous fuss because I can't come to his house for lunch. He doesn't seem to quite understand the idea of 'making a commitment'. Well, he understands it when it's his commitment, and nothing must stand in his way or the world will explode, but when i'ts my commitments? Nada.

And ohgod, I have a costume. Ohgod, it is not a pretty sight. Why oh why? Did someone tell Fran that I hate yellow above all things? When I was given it, I rushed into the ladies and said, very much as Ron does in Goblet of Fire on seeing his dress robes - 'murder me'. The only part of it I'm remotely fond of is the hat. The hat is rather sweet, and makes me look like some sort of urchin. But the spots make it into a kind of kitschy Cath Kidston urchin, so I can cope with it. It's just moving downwards on my body that the problem begins. And never quite ends. I've been informed that my boobs are going to be bandaged up so they look smaller. Oh, what fun!

NaNo, NaNo, the end is in sight. What's with all these people having finished them already? I'm making a rule to read nobody's until mine is done and the month is over. Not that I'll have much chance of reading Ev's as she's gone officially AWOL before Cambridge interview time.

And ohgod, I HAVE to do my coursework tonight. I must must must. It doesn't matter if it's good, it just needs to be done. I shall make myself a very wonderful plan, with quotes. I'm going to make the plan as wonderful and colour-coded as I possibly can in an attempt to convince myself that it's fun.

I can't believe the weekend's over already. It feels like it never begun. Still, I suppose that's good, as the weeks until Christmas are going quicker and quicker.

I think I may actually be kind of depressed today. It hasn't been a great day, as far as they go. I mean, the film was nice. But I feel as if I haven't been listened to at all today. I know that's pretty self-centred, I mean, why should I be listened to? And that to my mind sounds irritatingly insecure. I'm not particularly insecure, so this sounds like moaning to me. Maybe it's just that I can't do anything right in my own eyes today. Meh. My dad didn't seem all that impressed with the card, even. Maybe it was just because it was early, but I really thought he'd like it. I think I should go to bed now, I'm not getting anywhere productive, I'm just making myself want to cry. And three weeks is such a stupidly long time. It'll be four weeks, because this week has already gone. A whole stupid month.

I repeat here, in case anybody didn't get it - I AM NOT GOING SKIING. End of story. There is nothing more to it. And why does everyone seem to think I can be won over by hot chocolate? I don't like the stuff. You know how I feel about ice skating, right? Well, skiing ties in with that whole thing for me. Not only do I associate it with a lot of pain - remember the times I've been in hospital, Ev? but it also makes me fucking terrified. Alright?

It was my dad's birthday today, and we had a pretty nice day. Went to the Jolyl Sportsman and had a very amazing ghoulash for lunch the likes of which I have never tasted before, and then on to Goblet of Fire - my second viewing. Some parts of it were better second time round - and I actually managed to spot Pansy briefly this time. Voldie gets better the more times you see him - my god is that dark lord one sexy thing. We had dinner this evening which was ovely - vodka and caviar, and I'm not a teeny bit tipsy as a result. Came very close to Telling the Parents (dun dun duuurrrr) but a) there wasn't a suitable opportunity, and b) something tells me I should wait and tell my dad first then ask him how he thinks my mum will react. I think they may have guessed, though. I'm not making any attempt to disguise the fact in my general conversation. Also, I managed to prise some dates out of them, hooray.

NaNo...will be done by Wednesday. I'm glad it'll be over, I must say. I want to re-start work on DLP, and maybe do some coursework. Damned coursework. I really must make a start this weekend. Two pieces, then it's all over. That shouldn't be too hard. And agh, mock dance performance on Thursday - nightmare. There's not enough room in this house to practice, let alone choreograph. I like to make BIG gestures when I choreograph, so I think I'm going to have to go and roll about in the garden.

Cannot quite be bothered to do this any more. I have a feeling there was more stuff I wanted to rant - I mean, talk about, but it's all gone out of my head. Hooray for vodka. Nadrovzska, in fact.

It's been a month today.

UCAS FORM HAS BEEN SENT OFF! OMG, IT'S OVER! And the others should be going at the end of the day, because I'm going to get a photo done and it will all be gorgeous and strange and finished, finally.

Went to see 'On The Town', last night. It was very good, the music was lovely, and Scott loked terribly sweet in his sailor outfit. Although really, he is a hideously vain young man. You get the impression that if Maddie got all dolled up for a date he'd say, "darling, you look wonderful in that dress, but it'd look better on me'. Men, eh. I always steer well clear of them myself. 'On The Town' must have completely cleared out any drama budget that school once had, though. IT WAS SO, SO EXPENSIVE. I nearly wept for all the unnecessary costumes. Considering my costume budget's about...20 quid, it was like a kick in the teeth. And AGH, LSOH so soon and we're not ready at all. I don't know about the actors, but us backstage luvvies aren't remotely anywhere near finished. And I still can't find Mrs Mushnik. Why can't someone just tell me what she looks like, or, better yet, send her to me with grovelling apologies for not being easy to find. She's a principal and I haven't got ANYTHING for her, dammit. Nor do we have anything for Seymour, and that includes ideas of where to get it. His costume so far consists of a bottle of fake tan (for one hand so it matches with the false hand on the plantpot).

My finger is not at all well, the poor thing. It's getting painful to straighten it. But I can't get to the bloody doctors! Oh. how I hate the NHS (see rant of last week).

Have to do my mock performance for dance next week, which is a bit of a joke seeing as most of the dance doesn't exist yet. Welcome to what's known as creative bullshitting. And I must get more ribs. Many, many more. Last night there were three girls in bikini tops and I was so, so jealous of their stomachs. They bent over backwards and you could count every single one. I am going to get ribs like that, I swear. I shall be doing those vicious crosslegged sit ups every day from now on.

Have realised that I cannot continue in this haven of warm dressing gown, croissants and computer, and actually have to go to college.

And oh, NaNo. I loved you, but you died. You died so bad.

Card for my dad is finished, and it looks beautiful. Am so proud. I can very arty farty at times.

Am fairly jolly today.

However, I have a horrible finger infection. I blame the doctors. if they'd have given me an appointment, they might have noticed it blossoming on my poor virgin (ha) finger and nipped it in the bud. I am angry with them on so many counts now. Their fault for never seeing me, their fault my finger may be about to drop off, their fault I've run out of pills and they probably won't give me any more without an appointment. And their fault my friend Karina's fingers have died and her wrist is all gone a funny way. They're supposed to fix her, dammit, and there she is with a wonky wrist and blue fingers.

Went shopping today, for the first time in ages, with Alice. Turns out she'd been ill, which explained her mysterious absence. We had a really good time, actually. Spent far too much money, and we also got ice creams from the Ben and Jerry's parlour, and ate them outside next to the fountain in the freezing cold under a canopy of Christmas lights. It felt like we were in New York, strangely enough. I'd love to go Christmas shopping in New York. It's such a beautiful place in the cold and dark, with all the lights shining. All the shops have started to play Christmas music now, which I love. No Scrooge can quite quash my love of all things Christmassy. I managed to get a lovely new bag today which looks just like my mum's Mulberry 'Roxane' bag. Well, not exactly like, as it was about £370 cheaper, but it's a pretty good copy and nice and spacious with pockets and stuff, and I like it. Also got a lovely new skirt, in a bottle green colour. Intend to doll myself up tomorrow when Mads and I go to 'On The Town'. Haven't got properly dolled up for a while, so it'll be a nice change. Looking forward to 'On The Town', too. And Scott as a sailor - ...!

Am making my dad a wonderful birthday card. My fingers will probably never come unstuck ever again from the amount of UHU I'll be using. I love making my own cards. Not only does it give me great fun and the delusion that I'm being creative, people always seem to appreciate them so much more, which I love. My dad wants to see Goblet of Fire for his birthday, which I find very, very cute. Funnily enough, it's what my 10 year old brother wants to do for his, too.

Meh. I don't really have a thing to say today. I'm going to try anyway.

Panto was - full of falling over, actually. First Charlie, backwards on to his bum off a chair, then me, tripping over a curtain. then me again, backwards ont o my bum while pulling a boot off Charlie. Ah, the joy. But really, I've had it up to Here with the sausage innuendos. There are only a certain number of times you can run your hand up and down a sausage in a suggestive manner saying 'blimey, what a whopper!' Managed to teach Pete The Dance. This means The Dance must be easy, and I've been panicking for nothing. Now I just need to pick my able-bodied (ha) men and women. Still don't have a costume.

Costumes for LSOH are going surprisingly well. I got Ed in The Red Dress (tm) today, and he looked, er, ravishing. Yes. That's definitely the word. There's a bit of a sticky moment (no pun intended) where he has to lie down and the slit rides up rather high. It's not a good thing in any way, shape or form. Also sorted a dress for the oh-so charming Kate Bailey, who is sickeningly nice (you were right, Ev), but has no cleavage whatsoever. Mucked around in Andy's dentist chair for a while. Oh, how I want a dentist chair. It even came ready equipped with handcuffs! And you can put it up and down, spin it round, and flip it all the way back. Think of the hours you could spend.... The plants look amazing, but the lip-synching isn't going so so beautifully. Tomorrow's plan: locate Mrs Mushnik and see if she really is ridiculously short; get her in fur coat, mentioning very loudly that IT'S DEFINITELY FAKE. Maybe she won't have a moral objection to wearing real fur, but so many people do these days that you have to be careful. Find some tops and belts and other accessories for Kate. Get Ed in the wig (Dolly Parton will turn in her grave).

The NaNo is...actually being written for once. Just given Ev and Stuart unflattering but accurate cameos. Am thinking of putting myself in, but Stuart has promised to let me appear in his, so I might leave me out of things. I have a brief (but of course vital) role as some random girl who has doings with Thek then gets murdered. Fun fun!

UCAS is being sent off tomorrow, and the other forms all checked by Amanda. I can't believe this is all coming to an end, finally. Although it isn't really, it's just the start.

I keep imagining the future at the moment. It's the season, I think. Autumn/Winter always makes me see myself in later life. Summer never does, it's such a present thing, is Summer. Anyway, planning the exact layout of your perfectly decorated dining room is never a bad thing.

Caucasian Chalk Circle is pretty amusing at the moment. We have only a few props, but the mainstay of the entire production is the Multi-Purpose Stick, or MPS, as we've taken to calling it in stage directions. When you're writing 'Simon strokes the MPS seductively', you know you're probably in the middle of madness.

My book is annoying me. I've read most of the way through and I'm still waiting for the plot to properly kick in. I don't relate to any of the characters or feel anything approaching like for them. However, the politics is actually fascinating me. I never thought I'd choose politics as my favourite thing in a book which is supposed to be about a love triangle, but I have. THERE IS NO LOVE TRIANGLE. And it's making me annoyed at sexuality stereotypes, something which annoys me a great deal a lot of the time.

My 'not a lot to say' turned into a massive rant, as usual. I seem incapable of writing short blog entries. I might have to do one shortly after this, just to prove I can. Only that will probably turn into a rant as well.

FORMS ARE DONE FORMS ARE DONE HOORAY FORMS ARE DONE LIFE IS GOOD LIFE IS FINE 'COS I'VE GOT FORMS AND NO-ONE ELSE DOES!!!!

*tangoes insanely about the room*

Yes, the forms are finally complete. If you hadn't guessed that.

Am quite tired tonight; rehearsal was...slow, and lots of lines got buggered. There were also awkward questions about my bruise collection. Was tempted to say 'you should see the other person!' but luckily refrained.

Costumes are happening, and it is lovely and wonderful. Ed is wearing the red dress, so it will have yet another fifteen minutes of fame.

Cold outside. Can't wait to snuggle up in bed - miserably by myself :(. Am wearing my lovely pink cashmere sweater for the first time, and it's so warm and soft. In fact, I feel completely wrapped up in warm soft stuff in general, at the moment.

OMG, Bleak House. *cries so much*. I did actually cry. Ii haven't cried this much since Casanova was on TV, I've got to say. I can't believe Dickens was so mean. I HATE Dickens. For those of you who don't watch it, poor, poor Esther (who is wonderful and kind and has enormous blue eyes) got the smallpox; and she recovered, thank god (I think I'd still be crying if she died), but she's hideously scarred and disfigured (sob). And evil Ada who doesn't even deserve it is still all fresh-faced. I hate you, Charles Dickens. Esther's so good and lovely, and she didn't deserve that at all. Still, I reckon Jarndyce still loves her, and I still love her, dammit.

Watched the new series of Little Britain, too. It's surprisingly good - the second serie grossed me out totally, but this one's good (only one gross thing in it = the incontinent old lady in the supermarket, and even that didn't gross me out that much, just made me need the loo!). I have Sevastian LOVE. Because really, if you had the PM in your control, wouldn't you force him to featherdust stuff wearing only a leather posing pouch? Maybe that's just me, but think of the pictures in The Sun afterwards!

Have only tonight, now. I've been saying that to myself all week - in the day, I count down the hours, but at night, I count down the nights until I won't be alone and your arms will be around me. I hate waking up by myself, these days. But less than 24 hours, so I'm happy. I don't know how I'm going to get through tomorrow for the excitement. I mean - sitting in History? Imagine that. Arguing with bloody Steve about hypocritical-ness, and Socialism and Margaret Thatcher, and all the time I'll just be waiting for my train to come in.

The NaNo is a beautiful, beautiful thing. 31k, Ev, I am soooo on your tail. I really must do the Judge Brack essay for poor Jonathan, I never seem to do him any work any more. And now is probably the best time, as I'm drunk and can write anything! I should get drunk to write more often, I type like an electric bunny! I did get completely slaughtered for GCSE Music, and look what happened there. A* grade, I think so. I blame Ev. I secretly blame Ev for everything, really. And want to hug her for indirectly changing my life in the most wonderful way. Talking to Paul at the moment makes me realise how wonderfully, fantastically lucky I really am. This time last year, I thought the horrible, black days would never end, I almost knew I'd be like this for the rest of my life. And here I am, totally not. Every cloud has a silver lining, but in my case, it's gold.

I saw the remainder of the orange, yellow and red roses today. They're wilting, but they're still beautiful, and they just remind me so much of you. I don't know why I ever thought I should get you white ones. Yes, I'm drunk, but it only makes me able to say the things I want to say sober, but check myself in. I'm not going to check myself, any more. Somebody said to me that one should live each day as if it were your last, but that's too final. Instead, I'd rather live each day as if it were the most perfect day of my life; and the funny thing is, all the days from henceforth seem set to be just that.

Am back from the gym feeling nice and stretched and exercised, and also gorgeous, because the gym instructor is, well...a lump. You'd think that being in a gym all day, she'd occasionally have a go on one of the machines...but no. Also, there were some charming private school boys flicking their stupidly floppy fringes around and attempting to flex their non-existent pecs. They ogled, but you can't really blame them, they probably haven't seen a girl before.

Am listening to Satisfaction again. What is it about crappy '90's industrial dance techno-y stuff that is just so damn great?

And ohgod, Stuart has finally found us some vagina euphemisms. And really, really charming they are too. I plan to rotate the ones I use with great regularity, ahahaha. This week i'm going with 'festering wound'. It sounds suitably gory. And the masturbation ones are funny, too. I especially like 'twinkling the little star'.

Ahem. There's no real point to this post, other than to let the world know I'm still alive. The NaNo is progressing well, surprisingly enough. On 28k, wheeeeee! Will be beating Ev by tonight, just you wait and see!

Am sitting here with hair dye on, dripping indiscriminately on stuff. I meant to do it yesterday, but it completely slipped my mind, so I will probably still have a nice navy blue scalp tomorrow - hope you find that an attractive look, Hetty dearest, and won't run screaming from me. My hair will be gorgeous, however - I don't think you've ever seen it in its first day glory - it won't have faded to black quite yet, and will still be a wonderful blue.

I must get on with the NaNo today, I really must. And finish the Italia Conti statement (in no more than 150 words why I am going to be the best thing ever to happen to the London stage - ha!). And I need to somehow locate my father - he has Miles' birthday list, and as I'm No. 1 Godmother now I need to get him a good gift. But not a lightsaber, as I always said Ii would be the first to own one and now I am, ha! He's going to be soooo jealous when he sees it. Plastic toy envy is a wonderful thing.

Damn, damn doctors. I could kill them all, I really could. The NHS is worth nothing in this country. You can't make appointments in advance, you have to ring up at 8.30 in the morning, and then it's always engaged, and by the time they put you through the appointments have all gone, and they never do put you through and while you're waiting they play you horrible tortured versions of Richie Valens' La La La Bamba until you want to scream and rip out your own eardrums. And you're told that 'our staff are exceptionally busy, please hold'. They're exceptionally busy? Wht about me? Wasting my day listening to bloody awful muzak in a faint attempt to get a doctor's appointment so I can tell them that a) to bloody well give me some more pills so I won't turn into a homicidal maniac when the moon is full, and no I don't want my blood pressure taken thank you so much, and b) give me some more medication because the three things they've tried before haven't worked, because they're FUCKING USELESS.

*Deep breath*. Ahem. Rant over.

Am going to the gym with Diane this afternoon, which should be fun. Haven't been in a while, so intend to do some intensive work. Although must make her keep me away from weights - my biceps are getting way too big. I can't seem to stop them, it must be the dance. When someone puts a hand on your arm and says 'blimey those muscles are hard, and you're wearing a top and a coat, you know you ought to be worried.

The bruise is progressing into marvellous new shades. It's managing to be purple, blue, green and yellow all at once, with little burst blood vessels in the middle. Let this be a lesson to you, my children. Do not walk into sharp gay boys.

Had a somewhat cryptic email from my beloved saying that everyone may be coming round to hers afterwards. I cannot possibly see your Mother condoning that, sweetie. Still, would be very amusing if she did.

And tell me, oh please, please tell me - someone - anyone - that there are no euphemisms for the o-word? Apart from coming, which doesn't count. And I could almost cope with 'climaxing'. Anything else is liable to make my brain melt.

Ev just said something very, very lovely to me. The even lovelier thing is, I'm worried it might just be true, in which case I want to run around cackling for a bit, and then take a deep breath in and realise how amazingly, blindingly lucky I really am. And cry. But not much, because after so much pain there's an unbelievable amount of joy.

Ev has found this lovely poem, which I must share with everyone, because I am secretly romantic and like to frolic with dolphins. Remember when you found out I was a secret romantic in about Year 9, Ev, from a drawing I did of a mermaid?

She has stolen the flock of ravens that run before her, and taken them for her hair
She has stolen the gentle curve of moonlit clouds for her body
She has stolen the warm misty aftermath of rainstorms for her heart
She has stolen rope and sails from ghost-ships-running-before-the-wind for her clothes
She has stolen a rain-glossed bed of autumn leaves for her eyes
She has stolen wet grass and the following sea for her touch
She has stolen swollen rivers and rough red wine for her voice

And holding these together, she sets herself in motion and it is a summer storm...
A storm in the hearts of those close enough - aware enough - to see
Of all of us though, I am luckiest
The last thing she stole was the eye of a storm - and she took it for her embrace
Having learned this, she has allowed me refuge in her arms
And she, the youngest daughter of the trees

*dies of loveliness*. Yes, I am a sap. No, I am not ashamed. Yes, I will kill anyone else who points this out, however.

Well, that was a short day. Oh, the wonder that is setting up for open evenings, followed by inset days. Gives me the equivalent of two days off mid-week, hooray! And time to really crack on with the NaNo. Which I always persist in typing as 'NaNao', for some utterly unknown reason. I am going to do the ball scene. And it will be lovely. I feel like a proper writer with my brimming coffee-and-chocolate and nasty pastry-like things (only croissants, but you get the idea).

We did some more of C.C.C. today, and it transpires that I have an awful shrieking voice and wiggle my bum a lot at the Fat Prince. It's lots of fun! I don't know who is going to be cast as Simon and Grusha yet - the lovebirds. Iin the other class it'll probably be Chris and Jolie (actual lovebirds). Also, I need a maid who I beat and threaten to kill - oh, the fun.

Forms are looking well on their way to be finished, thank god. Then I can breathe easy. And by 'breathe easy', what I really mean is panic about my audition pieces. Oh, woe! woe! woe!

We did Act II at panto tonight. Well, when I say 'did', what I really mean is 'faffed around looking like nincompoops' -

(Panto, Act 1, Scene 2
Mangle Wurzle: What's a nincompoop?
Hayseed: A poop with an income)

Still, have established some more witty repartee, and some 'manly bonding', with my 'brother' who is also a 'man'. Am a bit sleepy, but NaNo has restarted, how exciting! I can't believe it's got to be finished by next week...I'll have to do lots tomorrow, and Thursday (two days off, hooray!).

I got cast for our version of Caucasian Chalk Circle today, as Natella Abashwili, the Governor's Wife. Which is a great part, she's a real cold bitch. Only trouble is, I have to be married to Creepy Alex, he's the Governor. Gross gross gross. However, the story of his choosing is a funny one. We were choosing the parts terribly democratically and Brechtian-ishly, so Amanda said 'who do we think should be Georgi Abashwili? He has no lines and dies right away', and the class as a whole said 'Alex' - ha! Also, there is much scope for amusing mis-pronounciation of his character's name as 'gay orgy', which somebody did today, causing much hilarity amongst us all.

69 hours, as Hetty charmingly puts it. And although she says there are no connotations, there so, so are.

Also 69 hours until LIGHTSABER LIGHTSABER LIGHTSABER OMFG LIGHTSABER!!!!!!!! I'm sorry, sweetie, I only want you for the plastic toys which you bring.

There is a possibility of D and D like things happening, which will be lovely and joyful. I wonder if a recurrence of 'killing the salsa pot' will happen. Although probably not, we killed it very, very dead. Although I have been informed that my role is to sit on Hetty's knee looking attractive, this time. No great hardship, that. Think I can just about manage it. And squee, we have our Goblet of Fire goings on Saturday. The lightsaber is coming too. Yes, I know it's the wrong fandom. No, I don't care, and will stab anyone who says so. Have finished adulterating a school skirt, which, very oddly, says 'Love Ev' on its backside. It will have to be a, er, demonstration of one of Pansy's past love affairs with someone called Ev. Or something. The outfit is all done now, though, and ready-to-wear - just have to make the important decision between knee-socks (deceptively sweet and innocent) or fishnet stockings (not remotely deceptive in any way). Am also going to bring bucket-loads of makeup to do the boys with. They're going to be sooo pretty. Ahem. Sooo something, anyway. Getting all excited now - Hetty, big-screen Voldie, and drunk crossdressed people - perfect weekend, if you ask me!

Am I tired tonight!

Panto was absolutely manic. I was absolutely manic. I think when I start being Billy, my system releases some sort of insane drug which makes me all bouncy and full of joy. And I talk as fast as Ev. Possibly faster!

So here I am in the raging sea
And my soul is bound for hell

Yes, I am listening to folk-rock. No, nobody judge me! I love the way it's so...morbid all the time. It makes me very happy, for some reason. Probably because an inner part of me is so incredibly glad I am not a floppy-haired sitar player with a voice like a drone with a head cold. If this song was written down in original pronounciation, it would probably look more like this:

Zo e'arhe Iiyam in the rayyayaygin zeeee
An'mi zowohl i-iz bowwwn vorell!

Ooh, to be in a Pentangle tribute band. Or even a Pentangle tribute band tribute band.

As Ev says in her blog, all she wants for Christmas is non-faked photos of Sexy Jack in a dress. Well, on my Christmas list, I'll put 'helping Sexy Jack into said dress for Ev's photos'. One up on you, Ev!

NaNo. NaNo now. And bullying Stuart into downloading music for me, and then choreographing 'Cheek to Cheek' for panto. Damn bullying directors finding out I do Dance. Still, it will be fantastic if I can sort it all out. Unfortunately, I haven't got much to work with. The 'men' are Pete, who is the same height as me, so finding him a woman to dance with will be...fun. Possibly one of the little ballerinas. Me, likewise, and am not in fact a man at all. Chris Higgins = say no more. Bobs Kilby and Taylor - alright, only Bob K can't do anything too strenuous, agh, and some bloke called Paul I've never met. So all good, all good. Still, I have Vision, and it will be lovely if they can all do it. I think I'm going to need about 3 sessions to teach it - men, women, and Lizzie and Minnie will need a separate dance. Gah! Why do I get myself into these things?

Am bored and cold. And not doing Personal Statement. And I miss Hetty horribly. While the week before I see her is the best week, because I can count down, and every day it's getting nearer, it's also the worst week, because it's the longest time I've been away from her. Argh argh argh.

I have been made Chief of Costumes for Little Shop of Horrors, eeee! Although it means lots of extra work, not so eeeee. But I sooo have this thing cracked. I'm putting the company in all the same, but different colours, because I hate it when everyone's a mishmash in musicals. I like a sense of uniformity. So will be running up (for this read: forcing other people to run up) circle skirts in this cheapy fabric we found, which comes in the most gorgeous colours, which is going to look fab. And shoving a bit of even cheapier net underneath to look like a fake petticoat. See the economy of me, world. See it and weep! I would more precisely detail what I'm doing, but it interests only me and the director, so I shan't. It turns out that dear, darling Kate Bailey (you'll be just sooo pleased to know this, Ev - ha!) is exactly the same size as me, so she'll be wearing my pink cherry dress. It is a sweet dress, and will look absolutely right for Audrey, so I want it to be worn, even if I do hate her on principle (I've never even spoken to the girl!)

Had panto this afternoon. Some idi- I mean, person, is making a documentary about Plumpton, and they filmed some of our rehearsal. Namely, the song. The one bloody song in the whole bloody thing where I have a solo. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Still, it'll probably never be shown. There is a God, so one hopes. Bad news on the costume front - well, it doesn't exist, so I suppose technically no news is good news. But I'm going to have to go all Tudor on my arse and bind my breasts - ouch! Minimiser bra and a bit length of bandage to flatten me a bit. My poor body is going to be so bruised by the end of the run. Lizzie's costume is gorgeous. I waaaant it. It's like something out of Bleak House, but not a muted colour, it's a wonderful deep blue. Still, I get sausages, so I can't complain.

Whew. This has been suuuuch a hectic weekend. Where to start, where to start.

The Lord Mayor's Show on Saturday. Of course. All went swimmingly, although it was such a rush to get it all right and everything. At 10.30 I was still helping the window nail his costume together, and Miles' was breaking eveyr second second, but we managed to get all present and correct and freezing our respective tits off in time for the start. The procession was good and fun with lots of waving, and Ev and Rosie found their seats and found Liz and all was well. Apparently the TV coverage was pretty bad - my mum and grandma couldn't spot me at all, and Hetty only saw me for two seconds or so. But still - fwee - phone conversations on a filthy pavement while boozing champage in a plastic cup. Probably the highlight of my week, that. Still, only five days, now. My mum has some beautiful roses downstairs and I want to get them and bring them for you. But I think your mother will probably start to run Special Investigations on me if I bring you flowers all the time! The Lord Mayor's lunch/breakfast etc were all good and very food-filled, which I like to see in a lunch. Although the scrambled egg was the funniest colour I have ever seen it, and couldn't have been healthy.

(Have to have a brief pause to say how much I love The Epoxies right now. The song You Kill Me rocks my world. Kills me, in fact. And also, damn you, Ev, for your lovely Switchfoot album. I shouldn't like a band that you like so much. Not because I have a moral objection to liking things you like, but because it simply Isn't Done. We differ entirely except on the subject of Carmina Burana, on which everyone's opinions should be united.)

Anyway, procession was good, yadiyadiya, missed the fireworks because I had to get back to get ready for Maddie's party, but no great loss. Ev came over and we hurriedly dolled ourselves up. I still say she should have worn the pirate dress! (which I am going to borrow - and/or possibly steal forever for Talk Like A Pirate Day next year). And so onwards to the party. My dress began to fall off then and continued doing it all night, which was evil of it.

The damned photographer got there before me! I mean - what must Maddie have thought? This weird bloke with a camera turns up and says he's something to do with me? But all was well, and she liked him, so eeee! So - events of the night. Alice and Ollie got engaged for the second time. For real? Who knows? But at any rate, they are engaged. I'm suprisingly...pleased for them. And also, I really just don't care. It doesn't bother me in the slightest, which makes me pleased. This is because I've found someone so much more wonderful than anyone else possibly could be, that most things take second place to that. But yes. Other news - Chris Godsmark was whoring it around like nobody's business, and while Maddie doesn't mind him wanting to get with someone new - because she has Scott now - he had to pick Arlena, who Mads talked loads to when she was having Chris-angst. And Arlena was one of the many, many people at that party suffering from the 'easy when drunk' disease (wildly infectious, it seems), so she wasn't precisely...unreceptive. The drink flowed in much commodity, and even Ev was demanding vodka and cokes on arrival (so much for 'I'm not drinking!', Ev!). Although Ev left without saying goodbye to me, you meanie. Still, I got your little note which made me laugh this morning. The fact I didn't notice it 'til this morning probably says a lot for the amount of tequila I consumed. Jack and I managed to finish the bar's bottle of it between us...oops. Ah yes, that gets me round to Jack. Or, more importantly, Jack and Matt. Or, most important of all, the Jack-Matt-Dominique triangle! Not a pretty thing, my brothers, not a pretty thing. Y'see, Jack and I were sipping our gin and tonics, terribly sophisticated, as you do, and Jack noticed Matt, and decided he liked. Now Matt, my brothers, was a very drunk man. A very drunk man indeed. A man so drunk, he would have made love to a wall if it had had a suitable orifice. Enter Dominique, stage left, with slag factor turned up to the max. Proceedeth Dominique (I can't type that, she'll have to be Dom) to stick her tongue with great enthusiasm down the throat of Matt, who respondeth with the enthusiasm of the very pissshed. Proceedeth Jack and Ellie to cry 'eeeewww', clutch at each other in terror, and down their gins very fast. Proceedeth Ellie, like a veritable tank, forwards, and grabs Dom with many a cry of 'Oh! I haven't seen you in ages! I loooove your hair! Let's dance!', and dragging her forcibly away from Matt. Enter Jack, stage right, with Intent.

One hour later (Dom having been suitably Disposed of, after we'd had several more fiascos with her pulling Matt) Ellie, Jack and Matt found their way out on to the stands. By this time, Matt had realised that being bisexual (he had hitherto been straight as a ruler) was a decidedly Good Thing. Proceedeth Matt and Jack to become more friendly. Ellie averted her eyes politely, and ended up going off to chat to someone about the weather. Disappeareth Matt and Jack behind the stands. Later re-appearance. Cryptic comment by Jack to Ellie which led her to believe Things may have Ocurred. Matt by now very very pisshed, having mean persuaded to purchase lots of lots of shots for the consuming pleasure of Jack and Ellie. Matt did end up asking Jack for his number (Ellie 1 Heterosexuality 0), but he also went home for the night with Dom, argh! So his chastity is probably firmly displaced, and I don't have much hope for the whole Matt/Jack thing. But at least it gave me a purpose for the night, and the sight of hot boys kissing never did anyone any harm.

Rushing around like a mad thing today, more on panto later if I can be arsed. Arm aches from where Jack bit it, the little bitch. Remind me never to ask anyone to prove something to me that will involve me being black and blue.

Today has been One of Those Days. It started out reasonably well, and then its bad qualities started to creep up on me cunningly from behind. I shan't catalogue all the various small annoyances, because they bore me, and I don't want to relive them.

I have excitingly mermaid-y hair today. Although my hair needs Ominous Things doing to it. Well, not really ominous, but it makes them sound more exciting, doesn't it?

I also NEED NEED NEED a shopping trip! I want some short skirts to wear that aren't, y'know, indecent.

We were being icicles in dance today. So much fun! I want to be an icicle every day! And no injuries sustained this time. Also, I really think dance is doing wonders for my body. You can see my ribs now, and when I lie down my pelvic bones are sharp. And Sarah has promised to speak to the ballet teacher about me doing it. And Ev, who is going to do it with me, whether she likes it or not. She is at least going to come to the free taster with me.

NaNo is ok. Did lots at college today, nearly at 20k, i think. Aiming to be at 25 by the end of the week.

And eeeee, UCAS is nearly finished! And History Coursework is handed in! And English coursework has a long extension! Everything is shiny!

And Bleak House is on tonight!

Am back from college and full of pasta.

Today was much better than expected, actually. I started off feeling so low I thought it'd be awful all day, but am much perkier now. Have been having deeply, wonderfully disturbing thoughts all day, which vastly improved my mood. Ah, disturbing thoughts. And we started our Caucasian Chalk Circle performance work. Sadly the wonderful prologue with cheese and collective farms and stupid names galore is not being left in our performance. Woe! Still, the rest of the play has all the wonderfully foolish names in. I really hope I am a particularly stupidly named person. Mikha Loladze or Niko Midkadze would do. Although they're the doctors, and who on earth would trust me as a doctor?

Going out soon to get down to the Gardner Arts Centre to watch Park, which I have a feeling I am going to take strongly against on account of STILL ACHING from that blasted man Leon's workshop. I knew I should have had a hot bath last night. Still, more important things called. Rose has been issuing dire warnings about not travelling to the Gardner Arts Centre by myself, because there have been Rapes, and all will be Death and Destruction. I am going by myself, because otherwise I'll have to change trains three times; but I shall take a stout umbrella and pray devoutly that nobody Rapes me.

The NaNo. Ohhh, the NaNo. It had died a death, I fear. I'm not doing it because I should be doing my English coursework. However, I'm not doing that, either. And I'm not doing my applications. In fact, I am doing little. I need shaking into action, but really, none of that stuff seems particularly worthwhile right now. Although I know it is and I really must do it - AGH. I need someone to force me to do it and give me much pain if I don't. Or possibly if I do, depending.

I have a very painful minor burn on my chin. Worryingly, I don't know how it got there. Which one of you has been creeping in and burning me in the night?

I take back anything rude I may or may not have said about Leon and the rest of Jasmin Vardimon Dance Company, and change it to 'Oh! My! God! With! Knobs! On!'. They blew me away, they really did. The dancing was just out of thi world. And, there was nakedness (never a bad thing) of both sexes. And this woman

Who I must say was rather nice. What wasn't nice was that I accidentally had a seat next to Creepy Alex (UGHUGHUGH MY EYES), who started attempting to Talk to me (UGHUGHUGH MY EARS). Fortunately the lovely, fabulous, I-owe-him-my-life Andy (not horrible friend c, but the other andy) intervened and said he couldn't see over the Creep's head and saved me by swapping seats. However, the Creep travelled home with me and a group of utterly odd boys from the B-Tech course who I just met. They were nice, if a little odd and obsessed with all things booby, Hawaii and tromboney. Bless them.

I AM NOT GIVING UP NANO, YOU UNBELIEVERS. I AM JUST HORRIBLY, HORRIBLY BUSY! AND HAVE NO TIME TO DO NANO! I HAVE NOT STAGNATED! DAMN YOU, EV, WHO WILL BE WAY AHEAD OF ME, BUT I AM BUSY, DAMMIT!

Am...less miserable. I don't think I have time to be.

Am still achy, however, and have dance today. Two hours of nearly dying! Fun fun! Oooh! In other dance news, I may be taking up ballet again, which is very exciting and lovely. And I am going to persuade Ev to come along with me, although she doesn't know it yet. Yes, Ev, you are going to. And you will simply not be able to think of any excuses, because there aren't any legitimate ones you can use.

And Hetty....you won't give me certain plastic red things if I don't apply? *lip wobbles* Consider my applications done.

Only I can't get a photo done because of the disfiguring burn. Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

Alas, poor Ellie, for her chin is ruined, possibly forever. And her life will be a meaningless void when she fails to get into drama school. And an even more meaningless void when Hetty fails to give her the lightsaber. And Creepy Alex will probably come and visit, or something equally horrible. Woe!

Am miserable today. And all achy from the stupid dance workshop. Damn my dreams. Still, only just over a week now, right?

Well, back from panto and well and truly exhausted.

However, am being vastly cheered up by mock trials, and being overthrown and things.

There are a few black spots, but really I know they're only grey. I just think they're black because I worry too much about everything.

Bed now. Probably for more worrying.

Well, I haven't updated since Tuesday, so this is likely to be a long and rambly, and, occasionally ranty post.

Last week was...fairly good, really. Apart from a few little annoyances, but I cope. Horrible Friend A has been something almost approaching a Nice Friend this week, it's shocking how well we're getting along at the moment. I have a rather large bone to pick with Horrible Friend B, he has it coming to him. And Horrible Friend C is being what one could only call a git. Well, actually, I'm sure one could think of many other things to call him (none of them polite), but it starts with git. There is too much coursework that I haven't done, and homework that I haven't done, and applications that I've almost done, shockingly enough. I had a text from Astrid, who I met at the drama school course, she'd just had her LAMDA audition - how frightening! I haven't even picked all my pieces yet. I'm having such trouble thinking of, and then finiding, modern pieces. I think my Shakespeares are reasonsably sorted (Goneril for definite and Rosalind a hopeful), but the modern ones? ARGH.

My NaNao is making me happy. It's the thing I was most worried about having time for, and wanting to do at all, in November, but it's coming along swimmingly. 17, 000 words now, and I haven't got tired of it yet. It's like Dark Lord - the musical, I just want to keep on writing and writing it.

I saw Alice Cooper on Saturday night, and he was good - although not as good as last time. Still, was a fun night out, although I wasn't nearly drunk enough. Getting home was a bit of a nightmare, with all the people trying to get back from the Lewes Bonfire - it seemed even fuller than ever, I'm so glad I didn't go.

Have been organising Lord Mayor's Show outfits - my brother's is very impressive, particularly when bits of it are tried on my me, my mum, and my dad all at once. We looked right ones, I can tell you. Everything at home is really good at the moment. I really want it to stay like this, we're all three getting along and it's just so...nice. Yesterday would have been Grandad's birthday, so it had the potential to be a bit mopey, but everything was alright in the end. We ended up turning the sitting room into a Vienna-style ballroom and waltzing around to Strauss CD's. I did feel a bit sad about Grandad, but I know that he wouldn't have wanted any of us to sit around being miserable, and he'd have been much gladder we made complete idiots out of ourselves dancing instead.

But anyway, the Lord Mayor's Show. All is reasonably organised, although I have forgotten Ev's address. (Ev - tell me it, please!) to mail the tickets, but all appears to be well. Apart from the fact that I will get pneumonia because my outfit is too small, and the whole of London will see my bottom if the wind blows. Oh yes, not just the whole of London, because the entire event's being filmed. Am preparing a few things to say in case the reporter talks to me, which my dad thinks there's a good chance of as I will have Legs. Not very long ones, admittedly, but Legs nonetheless. ALL OF YOU NOT ACTUALLY COMING TO THE SHOW MUST WATCH IT ON THE TELLY. I MEAN, HOW OFTEN DO YOU GET TO SEE MY BOTTOM? (ok, don't answer that).

Am having a strange and exciting Dance Workshop today, with the company we're going to see perform on Tuesday. Should be...tiring. I wonder what new injuries I can sustain today?! My thumbs and groin have just about recovered from Wednesday.

Really must go and get dressed now, or I will be rushing to college, late, in my underwear. Which is no laughing matter in Hayward's Heath, let me tell you.

More NaNo later. Muuuuuch more. Although I have rehearsals, and coursework, and GAH. Life is too busy.

First day of NaNo, and it is started. I managed to bash off the first 500 words on paper in English this morning, although there were a lot of distractions (God, can't the teacher realise that some of us are trying to write novels here, and that's a lot more important than A Level English Literature?). Going to get a large bowl of pasta, type it up and continue now. The beginning has turned out quite dark, it'll come as a surprise considering what the novel's actually about - i.e. nothing but froth and comedy.

Day was good. Horrible Friends are actually being quite nice and Slightly Less Horrible. I could almost hug them. Without actually, you know, touching them.