It was so dull that I thought I would slump out of my seat, under the table and die.

So, that's Christmas over with for another year. And it was a good one. If we overlook the virus that woke me up three times in the night and kept me in bed for most of Christmas Eve. Everyone I know seems to have been ill at some point of this festive season. Where's the fun in that? There's no 'ill' in festive. Anyway, feeling a lot better now, thank God. I couldn't have felt much worse.

Yesterday, Ian and I went to see Avenue Q in the Noel Coward theatre in London and it was so much fun. I was laughing so hard at one point that I had tears rolling down my face. Aside from Ian, it was only me laughing so much, so perhaps the joke was a personal one. I don't know. Anyway, the show is kind of like a live action 'adult' (not Jim Davidson in Sinderella adult) Sesame Street that's very, very witty. Plus, it has a Miss Piggy style character called Lucy The Slut. What's better than that?

Oh, and I'm now employed (temporarily at least). I think I was in the right place at the right time on Friday. I went into the centre with James, shopping, and thought it would be a good idea to pop into the job agencies that I had previously been registered with to see if I was still on their books. I went into one, let's call them P, and they said that yes I was still on their books and was I free for a job on Monday for a couple of weeks. How good is that? Admittedly, the job isn't a great career move, but the money is good and that's what I need at the moment. I'm even looking forward to starting tomorrow, though slightly anxious about the stipulation for 'hair to be professionally groomed.' What does that even mean? Should I hire someone? How long should I style for? I don't know, but I'm guessing back-combing and talc are out of the question. Or maybe I should risk it. I'm undecided.

Anyway, in the job agency, I had to redo the tests that I have sat there before (hence redoing them). There are three. One is a data entry one, typing in the information that a robot lady gives you, one is spelling (cities, the hardest being Edinburgh) and the third was a 'information retention test' which involved listening to aforementioned robot lady talking about iron gates. It was so dull that I thought I would slump out of my seat, under the table and die. However, I didn't, and passed all the tests. Hurrah! If I had got 23% like in my psychosymetric test, I don't know what I would have done. Screamed, probably, and maybe never stopped. Oh, and just in case I thought I was still in Cornwall in the summer, the recruitment agent told me 'there's no beach wear in the office.' Glad we cleared that up before tomorrow.

Right, so, that's it so far.

xx

What kind of question is that to ask someone? Horrible.

So I'm home for Christmas which, so far, has been lovely bar meeting a crazy at the bus stop last night. I was catching the bus to Ian's and was at the bus-stop when some guy sat next to me and said:
'Alright mate? What bus are you waiting for?'
'The number five.'
'I'm getting the number four. What's your name?'
I know I shouldn't have told him, but I did, and he then carried on asking questions about what I was doing etc, all the time using my name at the end of the question. Anyway, I told him I was a student studying Creative Writing (I didn't want to discuss my novel with him) and then he started asking questions about the course.
'What kind of writing?'
'All sorts.'
'Do you read?'
'Yes.'
'On the course?'
'Yes.'
'What books have you been reading?'
'Um, lots.' I couldn't think what to say, and then he asked, 'Is this conversation boring you? Am I not asking the right questions?'

It was really uncomfortable, and I was really glad when the bus sailed round the corner. What kind of question is that to ask someone? Horrible.

Aside from that, yesterday was okay. I'd stayed at Ian's on Friday night for a Winter Solstice celebration, which was great, and then went Christmas shopping with him and James. I don't know why I leave it so late every year, but it's a tradition I don't seem to be able to shake. Still, managed to get most of the things I needed with as little stress as possible and went down to my nan's with my Ian and my parents last night where he experienced my nan's heavy handed whisky measures for the first time. That's what the festive season is all about.

xx

That's going to play on my mind from now until I see it.

So, I found out that you can actually get get paid for blogging. How fun is that? I can't remember how I found the website Smorty, maybe through a search engine or something, I don't know, but it's really good, easy to use and understand with only a few rules to follow. At first I thought it would be like blog advertising, or like you sometimes get emails that are just full of links, but it's not like that at all. All you have to do is mention a service or company and give your opinions on it. They don't want you to sing their praises in a way that seems completely forced, and they don't want you to have every other word hyperlinked. They just want your opinions, which is kind of cool. Where else would you get paid just for what you think, I ask you? Nowhere. No, no.

Anyway, I'm glad to be blogging for a moment now after spending the last three hours in a row on my novel. I can't believe how long it's taking to get things how I want them. It's like every time I read from the beginning, I find something else that needs to go in. I wonder if I'll ever be 100% happy with it. I guess I will at some point, but right now I'm feeling like I can't move on until I get everything in the first eight chapters and interludes sorted out. It's like having my wings clipped. If I had wings. I'm looking forward to taking my diary entries along to my last novel meeting (sob) on Monday. It will be good to get some feedback as the voice I have used is different to the rest of the novel and it's all very early stages in concept and writing, so it'll be interesting to see how it goes down.

So, tonight I'm going round to Frea's to watch the X Factor final. I heard a rumour that Sam Difference are singing All I Want For Christmas Is You. I love that song. I hope they do it justice. Ooh, I hadn't even though they wouldn't before I mentioned it just then. That's going to play on my mind from now until I see it.

xx

'Christmas can be a lonely time for people with no family.'

There's something about getting into the chair at the hairdressers that robs me of any social skills. It's always been this way. I don't know why, but I suspect it's the awkwardness of having someone so close to me and not having anything to talk about. This morning was no different. I sat down and we had the usual, 'how are you?' chit-chat. Fine, no problem. 'Can I take your jacket?' Yep, yep, fine. Had my hair washed, all want AOK. Then I got sat down in front of the mirror and started to gabble like a crazy.

'How long was it before?' she asked.
'Oh, I don't know. Maybe six weeks or so. Does that sound right?'
I saw her confusion in her reflection and realised she was talking about the hair length, which actually makes more sense anyway than how long it had been since I'd last had my hair cut.
'Oh, you mean the hair,' I said. 'It was a bit longer than it is now.'
'And how much do you want cut?'
'Quite a bit.'
She held up some hair. 'About this much?'
'Yes, that's fine.'

And then she set to the job. In silence. I'm normally okay with silence, but not when I'm getting my haircut, so I started talking:

'Are you watching X Factor this year?'
'Yeah.'
'The final tomorrow night.'
'Oh, yeah.' Snip, snip, snip.

Then, to the other side of me, a woman having her hair dyed blonde who'd been quiet since I'd come in said, 'Christmas can be a lonely time for people with no family.'

What a conversation starter! I wish I'd said that. The guy doing her hair, asked, 'Sorry?' and she repeated herself. I don't think he said anything in response, but then heard her again say, 'Sometimes I wish the baby Jesus had never been born.'

I don't know if she was 'joking' or not. But if she was or wasn't, it's a pretty amazing thing to just come out and say. Not, 'Are you looking forward to Christmas?' 'Done all your shopping?' No, 'Sometimes I wish the baby Jesus had never been born.' Priceless. I might start saying that mid-conversation as if it's been playing on my mind all day.

Anyway, that was a nice start to the day. After that, I went into town and picked up a few Christmas presents. I say a few, I actually mean two. One for Ian, one for me. I think this 'one for you, one for me' policy is a good way to tackle what's otherwise a very stressful time.

Writing is going well. I think I'm on target for 50,000 by this time next week. I started writing Daniel's diary entries the other day, which I'm really enjoying, but haven't had a very productive couple of days. I've taken on some other work that's great, but means I need to section novel aside for a while.

Right, that's that. Off I go. Only one week left in Falmouth but, as Ian said, the end of one era and the start of the next.

xx

Cats. In slutty wigs. It just has all the ingredients of amazement.

Why, why, why do I insist on changing things in my novel just as I think things are going along well? On Friday, I changed a major aspect of one of the three central characters and have spent the weekend making necessary changes. Oh, and having found the horrifying 'Statistics' part in Word, I learnt I have spent a total of 775 minutes and 665 revisions on that alone. 775 minutes. That's, like, twelve hours. But I'm a lot, lot happier with what I have done. I also managed to tackle whole chunks of prose that were, 'tell, tell, tell,' and are now 'show, show, show.' I know I'm moaning (in good spirit, mind) but I actually couldn't be happier with the way things are going.

So, what with this drastic turn of events, the weekend has been pretty good. I went out for a cheeky drink on Friday night with Ben, Frea and Andy, intending to be out for a couple of hours at most. I got home at 3.30 and woke up at first wondering if a train had run over me in the night. I woke again a little later and found I could actually move all my limbs and get out of bed. A great improvement.

That was yesterday and today I have just been getting on with work, still aiming for 50,000 words by a fortnight's time. Should be do-able, so we'll see. I just want to get as much done as possible as I know that as soon as I get back to Bristol it'll be Christmas and I'll be busy, busy, busy. And probably drunk, drunk, sick. What else is the festive season for if not that?

Ooh, and this week I also learnt about this through my friend, Jo. This may well be the best thing I have discovered since 2001's revelation of Scampi Fries. Cats. In slutty wigs. It just has all the ingredients of amazement. And it doesn't disappoint. The blue one gets my vote. So jazzy.

Right, on that note, bed.

xx

There's something about winning that's great, isn't there?

There's something about winning that's great, isn't there? It doesn't matter what the prize is, it's the winning that counts. I remember a few years ago I was on Brighton pier on one of those grabby machine things. You know the type. They have a really slack crane thing that hovers over soft toys/empty Nintendo DS boxes/anything else that can appeal to all age ranges. Anyway, the one I was on was for Muppets soft toys. I had my beady eye on Kermit, but, half an hour later, I was clutching Animal as if was a life-ring and I was drowning at sea. Why? Because I won him. It might have cost me more than buying him, but that's beside the point.

So, on a similar note, I have the worst poker face. I can't blag in the game, and I can't raise the bet when people are watching. This is probably why I can only actually play properly online since I don't have to physically face anyone at all. And, because of this, I can actually win. Since I hadn't played any online casinos before, I thought I should probably search the web and see if there was any way I could find which ones would be worth visiting, and which ones would be well worth avoiding. You can imagine my excitement when I typed online casino into the search engine and found Pro360. It's so handy. It's kind of like one of those comparison shopping websites that gives you a grid of attributes and rates each one out of five or something. Included in the comparisons are the maximum amount you can win, editor and player ratings, and full reviews. Not knowing where to start choosing an online casino, it was great, particularly because it lists the casinos in order of best to worst, some with a 100% editor rating.

If, like me, you're a newcomer to online casinos, you'll do well to visit the website before going any further. The reviews from fellow users are so useful, giving detailed information on the games available to play, whether there have been complaints about the ethics/fairness of the casino, and the level of online customer service skills.

When will something similar be designed for those machines on Brighton pier?

xx

I love charity shops, but there's a morbid feeling that washes over me when I see whole collections of things that have been donated. In my mind, it c

I love charity shops, but there's a morbid feeling that washes over me when I see whole collections of things that have been donated. In my mind, it can only mean that the owner has slipped away to another realm. Why else would they want to part with the entire series of Star Trek: The Next Generation? Why would they allow their prized Catherine Cookson to be snatched from their hands? Their beautiful range of porcelain owls? Surely death is the only answer.

On Sunday, Antje and I went into a charity shop in Penryn and saw a whole table full of face saunas and foot spas with the sign 'Perfect Xmas Gifts.' Now, either these all came from one person or, weirder still, they came from several. All at once. Who on earth donated these? And why? Who wants a second foot spa at any time of the year? Let alone Christmas. Ugh. I didn't even think charity shops were able to sell electrical items, let alone ones that were so intimate. If someone gave me one, I'd have to re-evaluate their place in my life. Still, just because I didn't want one, doesn't mean my family and friends feel the same. I bought three.

So, what with that joyful discovery and the fact that I've been tap, tap, tapping at the keyboard resulting in 36,500 words, I'm feeling good. I've made a deadline with myself to get 40,000 words by Thursday night and 50,000 by the time I go to Bristol at Christmas. This actually doesn't feel implausible, which is good since I usually set demands of myself that leave me frazzled and weeping on the keyboard, 'Why did I bother?' This is not a good frame of mind. No, no.

Oh, I'm life modelling again tonight, and I'm feeling much more in the right head-space than last week when I would rather have eaten my own skull. I think it's partly because it's the last class this term, and also because I'm feeling as though I've been really productive these last few days. Hurrah!

Right, I'm going to walk the streets. I haven't been out of the house at all today and it's starting to get to me.

xx