I look like a sausage that someone left on the grill and forgot about.

The sun has come out again. It's good news for everyone, except the angry parents on the beach who, for practically the whole time I was there, were shouting at their kids, 'DON'T EAT YOUR SANDWICH THERE,' 'MOVE TO THE RIGHT,' 'DON'T WAVE YOUR SPADE LIKE THAT.'

So, that added to the relaxation of being in the sun about as much as being burnt all down my right hand side. I look like a sausage that someone left on the grill and forgot about. It's horrible. I texted Ian last night to alert him of my frazzled state and was told to be lobster red all over by the end of the week. I think he thought I was being quite half-hearted about the whole thing.

But I'm staying out of the sun today to get some more work done. I'm really happy with my Chapter One and the majority of Chapter Two, but I need to write a scene into it that I'm delaying doing because I know it will be difficult. I'm biting the bullet today though and spending one of my two hour stints writing a rough draft of that, then going out in the sun to edit it. It sounds like a plan because it is one! Whoop!

Oh, and the latest in my being able to concentrate involves putting in earplugs but also having classical music on at the same time. There's something about the earplugs that works wonders, and for some reason I can't listen to music with lyrics while I'm working. Why don't I just wear headphones? That doesn't work either. It's bizarre, I know, but it's doing the trick.

xx

It's a multi-media torture.

Ugh, if I have to fill in one more form, I'll eat my own spine. All morning I've been filling things in, on paper and on the phone with the car insurance people. It's a multi-media torture. Still, I guess it's all being done for a reason. But it's one o'clock now and I've hardly done any work. Gah!

I've been re-eading my work for the last few days and my eyes are stinging from looking at the screen. I think it's less damaging to actually write since at leats then you're glancing down at the keyboard. But editing is taking forever. And my first chapter is too long - 29 pages. I don't know what to do!

Right, that's that for the time being. I'm off to put my ear plugs in and set my alarm for a two-hour stint.

xx

A dog on heat does not have much fun.

A dog on heat does not have much fun. That's the lesson I've learnt this week living with Tia who's presently in her second season. She looks so confused by everything that's going on. And she's meeting her boyfriend tomorrow for 'the deed.' It was arranged by each dog's respective owner. No dinner, no dates, just straight into the bedroom/garden (not sure where it will take place). Who says romance is dead?

So, other than that, this week has been peaks and troughs in terms of productivity. I had a bit of a flap on Wednesday I think since, living with Kath who has millions of writing books, I keep picking them up and panicking that I'm not doing some of the things they strongly advise. So I called Sam, my tutor, and he put me back on track, which is great because now I'm really happy with what I've got. My first chapter has really come along, the second is completely all over the place and the third, well, that's best looked at through fingers. But it's the early stages and the main thing is that I've got the bare bones to build the body on. There's a nice thought.

The weekend has been really good. I went out for drinks on Friday night and last night after spending the day working and editing. Jenny and Kai came over for dinner and then we went to the pub, practically at the end of my road. Getting there was fine, but I got a bit lost with Ryan and Duncan on the way back. It took about fifteen minutes as opposed to the five it took us to get there. But it was a lovely evening.

Today I went with Kath to Pendennis Castle to walk the dog. It's kind of crazy going around with a dog. People always stop and talk. To the dog first, then to the humans. As soon as we got out of the car, some woman was saying, 'She's lovely, isn't she?'Then, as we walked around, everyone who had a dog stopped for a chat and we all swapped stats: Ýes, she's two, yes she's on heat. Yes, she's lovely.'

I said to Kath after, it's kind of nice how people get talking about the dogs and she told me that she only knows some people because of their dogs. She knows the dog's name, but not the human's, only as 'Millie's owner.' How funny.

Anyway, I'm going to pull my lower lip over my head if I don't eat something soon. All I've had eat today is a bit of last nights leftovers and four doughnuts. Yes, four. I'm very ashamed.

xx

'You better think, think about what you're trying to do to me.'

I'm sat in the library surrounded by foreign exchange students and every couple of minutes, Aretha Franklin's 'Think' keeps blasting out of someone's computer. It all goes a bit quiet for a minuite, people tap away on their keyboards, and then it comes on again: 'You better think, think about what you're trying to do to me.'

I wouldn't mind, but the image that comes to mind is the jazzy sheep in the TV advert for some bank with the lyrics: 'You better think, think about your current account today.'

I'm going to go home before I scream.

xx

EDIT: So, I was wrong. The jazzy sheep were NOT advertising a bank, but instead Co-Op. But some bank, Halifax maybe, used that song. It's no wonder I was confused. When you get sheep singing, anything can happen.

After about an hour I called the bank and put a stop on it, convinced it was going to fall into a ne'er do well's hands.

Just when you think everything's going swimmingly, someone pisses in the pool beside you. That's not to be taken literally (this time at least), but I was feeling really on top of things until the beginning of this week. I'm putting it down to the fact that I've just moved house, but I'm feeling like things might have got a bit much all of a sudden. I looked over my work last night and can see so much wrong with it that it's a bit overwhelming. Still, at least it's there to be knocked into shape I guess.

To add to stress though, I had a flap last night at the thought I might have lost a cheque for over a grand that I wrote to myself. Not a nice feeling. 'It mist be in my wallet,' I thought, and rustled through receipts for drinks I can't remember buying and some I wish I could forget. Not a nice feeling. It wasn't anywhere to be found. 'Maybe it's in the car,' I rushed out. Not there either. 'Maybe it's in one of my bags?' No, not there either. Now, is it just me or when you lose something do you even look in places it just wouldn't be. I even looked in a bag that I haven't used since I moved here. Nowhere to be found. After about an hour I called the bank and put a stop on it, convinced it was going to fall into a ne'er do well's hands.

I found it this morning in the first place I looked, wrapped in between two twenty pound notes. Isn't that the dirtiest thing? Sick. Still, at least I know where it is: torn up in my bin with a busted lightbulb. The best place for it.

So, what with that mild panic and the fact I've got three deadlines for the end of the week (two of which I made myself), I'm feeling a little on edge and whenever I sit down to do work find myself fidgetting, unable to focus on what I'm doing and thinking instead about what else I need to do. And then nothing gets done, does it? Still, I have the basis of my essay done, and the profile I'm writing for the magazine, but everything feels a bit half-done. I guess that's just the way things go though, isn't it?

Right, I'm going to get back to work.

xx

Twice I heard honks from outside.

I moved out! Hurrah! What a bloody long day though. I woke up at about half seven and started clearing my room, putting everything into boxes and all that malarkey, then had to have the usual panic of çan I park my car in the lane for long enough not to block anyone in?' The answer's no, by the way. Twice I heard honks from outside, despite the fact that I had put a note on my windscreen to say I was in number ten, so that was annoying. But I got everything out and down to Kath's in two journeys, which was okay really. I was watched for pretty much the whole time by her nosy neighbour. He didn't even offer to help.

So, here I am, in a nice house with Kath, a cat and a dog. It's great and nice to be able to walk more easily into town. Went back to Emily's last night after a curry and I did my usual stint of nearly falling asleep, but was able to just walk over the road and home. Perfect!

So that's that for the moment. I'm going to start my profile for Big Screen. More later. xx

It shouldn’t grate on me, I know, but it does.

So, I'm back in Falmouth after the Priddy Folk Festival with Ian, which was great. I wasn't really sure what to expect, but it was such a good weekend with some really good music and, of course, lovely company.

It was a bit scary though, because just before I left to go back to Clevedon, I heard from my parents. My Dad had to go into hospital with water on his lungs. They drained the water from him, and he's out now, but will have to go back in again sometime soon for electric therapy to get his heart back to the right rhythm. I went to see him in the hospital a couple of times when I was back and he looked well. You could actually see where the water had filled up in his body and, when I saw him, he looked a lot slimmer than he had at Easter, or whenever I last saw him. He was pretty perky, too, making jokes with the nurses and winding them up, so that was good. For him, at least, not so much for the nurses who probably thought he was a loon.

So, as I drove back yesterday, I heard on the radio about a new policy that the Tories might bring in: a tax break for married parents who will receive up to £20 a month, so long as one of them stays at home to bring up the children. Apparently, a lot of problems in society stem from the lack of family values. And in some ways, I can understand that. But who's to say what a family unit is made up of, or how well it functions? I remember when I was younger and we had a book in school that was all about how different people have different families: some children might only have a Mummy, some might only have a Daddy; some children might live with their grand parents or aunt or uncle, or foster parents or adoptive parents. Some might be brought up by Siamese cats. But, as it was keen to point out, each child had a family that loved them no differently.

I don't think this Tory policy is definite yet, but it jarred with me because, as I've ranted about before, I don't think that the best place for a child to grow up is always with both parents, and who's to say who's a good parent and who isn't? If the Tories are going to start rewarding people, they should do so on merit as opposed to what they see on paper.

Right, I'm heading home (IN THE SUN) to eat something before getting on with polishing up Chapter Three for Friday's meeting, and making a start with my Critical Essay. Whoop!

Oh, and just one more quick moan. I went to use the hoover the other day, but it was nowhere to be found. 'Strange,' I thought, 'why would someone want to take the hoover out of the house?' Anyway, it turned out my housemate (not Antje) had taken it to clean her car and left it at her friend's house (I've no idea why it was at her friend's house. It's not even that nice a hoover). 'I'll get it back today,' she said.

That was nearly two weeks ago and we have to be out of the house on Sunday. She's staying with her parents until Friday (and I won't be home), which means we'll have to do almost everything house-cleaning wise, on Saturday, when I'm meant to be moving in with Kath. It shouldn’t grate on me, I know, but it does. But I feel better for getting it off my chest.

And that is that.

xx

I was part strict teacher, part reprimanded student. It felt good.

I'm convincing myself that not having posted anything on here since the 19th of June is in fact a good thing, because all my efforts must have been going into other areas. And this is true. But: the 19th of June?! That's scary. I knew I hadn't been on here for a while, maybe a week, but not nearly a fortnight. Ugh.

Anyway, things have been really good. Other than the weather. I've written over 10,000 words now, which, having looked back on last night, is in parts good and in parts 'why the hell did you write that?' But it's there to be worked with, I guess. Also, have been in touch with my MA tutor, who was encouraging and positive about the work I sent to him, so that made me feel really motivated.

Other than work, I haven't really been up to much. I've got myself into a routine of going to the gym in the morning every other day, then going back and doing work. Oh, and I've learnt that I work better if I put ear-plugs in, the ones that you use on a plane. But I had a bit of a fright using them on Saturday night. I was sat at my desk, which is right next to the door into the garden and public footpath. Anyway, I heard loud 'bang, bang, bang,' on the door. I thought it must be my housemate having locked herself out. She must have been knocking for a while, I thought as I pulled back the curtain. But, no, it wasn't my housemate, it was a really drunk woman carrying a bottle of vodka who couldn't really string a sentence together. It turned out she was looking for the house on the corner in a row parallel to mine, so I took her down the road. And that was that. Oh, and then I was treated to an impromptu firework display. Literal fireworks, not a blazing row.

Yesterday, I have to admit, I did absolutely nothing until about 10pm. I read the paper from Saturday, I started reading a really good book (Eat, Pray, Love - my favourite line so far is, 'I sounded so surprised, as if I'd seen a camel using a payphone. I just like the image), and I watched about four episodes of The Office. Oh, and I went out for a bit with Devi. Then I decided enough was enough and sat down to re-read my first two chapters and made a point to be as critical as possible. So now about 80% of the text is highlighted yellow where I've inserted comments such as, 'Awkward. What are you trying to say?' and 'Cliche,' or, 'REPETITION.' I was part strict teacher, part reprimanded student. It felt good.

So, that's that for the time being. Now I'm off to the gym. I feel like a regular there now. In fact one of the men who's always in front of the mirrors with the free weights started a conversation with me the other day. But the (awful) music was so loud, I couldn't hear him and so just nodded. I could have been agreeing to anything. Still, nice to be friendly.

xx