This is exciting.

I write on a train on my phone, which up til about ten minutes ago I didn't realise I could do. Therefore if my punctuation is somewhat erratic, I apologise and shall endeavour to clear it up later.

On the way home from the lovely Ilfracombe, which by the way is absolutely beautiful, idyllic and all that is good about Devon (just don't mention the theatre troupe. No really. Don't). Pictures to follow cos I took loads, and ACK RUNNING OUT OF SPACE THE BASTARDS I COULD GO ON FOR AGES SHI

Oh no you're horrible no that's not fair it's really not.  Changing Deviantart's layout while I'm tipsy.  What kind of sense of humour is that?!

So here I am two and a half glasses of good wine later, watching How to Look Good Naked and finding things amusing.  I rarely get tipsy with my mother but when I do it's rather fabulous, actually.  We make jokes about the Osmonds.

I'm off to Ilfracombe on Sunday, and home alone tomorrow night so I may not write for a week.  If you don't hear from me I apologise but that's why.

One quick note:  T.  The hints (nothing to do with me) will be present soon.  Oh go on.

Oh and another thing.  I'm sorry M but there is competition - as of Wednesday night I fear I may have fallen in love with Seth Lakeman.  *shiver*

The last few days have just been full of things that make me hate the way I am.  Oh yes.  It's going to be one of those posts, you're thinking.  Well no you're wrong, I've decided, I promise to keep the wallowing in self-pity to a minimum.

The point is that I've been at work the last few days and that always makes me dislike the way I am and the way things are.  For several reasons.  The first of these is W, who is condescending and generally a bitch to anyone she takes a mild dislike to, which for some reason includes me.  I don't know why.  I fear it may be that technically I am a Saturday girl and therefore I am lower than her on the pecking order than she is.  The conversation in my head changes from situation to situation but in real life I don't like her because she is condescending and rude, and I don't like me because I take it.  There is a feminist inside me, that won't take shit on grounds of gender, and a Christian of Currently Unspecified Denomination (pending) who won't take shit on grounds of religion, and a Liberal who won't take shit on grounds of politics... but when it's on grounds of me as a person I just shut up and take it and I don't like that.  I don't like that I take these things essentially because there is nobody else to back me up.  These are feelings, not principles.  And that makes me a Wimp.  Right.

It's been pitchforks at dawn in our household this afternoon.  M's been pissed off at L for being shirty with everyone and everything, and we've all been pissed off at M for the same reason (except we have less fire power than M, which is important).  D's been picking holes in anything and everything and Pretending he's only joking, and therefore I've been getting pissed off at him as well.  Surprisingly, when I got back from work I was in a wonderful mood with almost infinite patience, and I think this is what has stopped the argument which in all probability I would have started.

Idea for a story: a couple are new in London (in my mind, I called them Laura and Gavin) and for their first date they meet in Covent Garden and just start walking and happen upon a restaurant, where they have a fantastic evening.  Several years later the relationship goes stale and the reason they give to themselves and each other is that they never found the restaurant again.  Or maybe it closed.  But that's what they blame for the whole deterioration.

I feel a bit of a fool at the moment, it must be said.

I thought about you for a lot of the day, even though I know I shouldn't and it's stupid... it wasn't even important or significant, either, not really, it was just what I was going to write.  And then bloody hell what an idiot am I.

Lot of dressing up today, looking important, feeling important, lipstick poppy pillbox red and peacock blue and black and white.  People (by which I mean my mum, and G) say I look good in most things.  J was wonderful a while back, she said the same sort of thing and I felt awful because I though she was just flattering me.

Today, I thought I heard Shakespeare only it wasn't, it was an actor and that's pathetic and attention-seeking.  This is what I thought he said: "If we shadows have offended / think but this and all is mended..." and then it was back to the actor in the open black shirt looking like he knew what he was doing.  And earlier on he said, Lord, what fools these mortals be! and it was to Oberon, in the open air on the grass only I didn't hear it, I only saw it and it was in italics and quotation marks, like this: "Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

On the way home we talked about people in pain and Coldplay sang that they never meant to cause you trouble, they never meant to do you wrong.

I'm sorry that I thought about you because perhaps it fucks up everything.  But I did and that is that is that is that is that.

During the interval of A Midsummer Night's Dream, I had two glasses of wine.  It is now your turn to smile fatherly and say that it is that talking.  Go on.  Say it.  I'm not going to contradict you.