Saturday, January 31


Another wasted day. I spent it sleeping, drowsing and occasionally reading. I am insanely jealous of people who manage to cram their days full of activity, ceaselessly accomplishing from morning until night, before hitting the pillow at a reasonable hour and sleeping peacefully, only to start all over again the next day. Do these people really exist? Surely they do. That's how gyms and rubbish dumps and garden centres stay in business. Is this the model of a normal, functioning adult? If so, I am doomed.

Today I was roused by the sound of the doorbell ringing (three times!) and was forced to stumble downstairs in my mis-matched pyjamas to find out what the hell all the din was about. PJ Harvey tickets, as it turns out. But Jesus, the man made a meal out of handing them over. First there was name confirmation, then there was signage, then he fumbled around with the little silver sticker before rifling through a pile of other junk to look for more letters. In the meantime I was exposed to freezing cold wind blowing an icy gale through my hallway and right down my (bordering on indecent, I later realised) cleavage. I stomped back upstairs, treading on the cat, and back into bed only to be roused again by my sister inviting me to breakfast. Breakfast? People who go out for breakfast are weird. It is much better to have Shreddies or porridge in the comfort of your own home. Then you can hate the world contentedly and nobody is any the wiser. However, there are occasions when it is necessary to show your face to others at breakfast time and then you should simply claim to have had a bad night in defense of your odd behaviour. This is not how I imagine normal, functioning adults to behave. I imagine them to leap out of bed, salute the sun, do thirty-or-so sit-ups whilst drinking a cup of freshly brewed fairtrade coffee, then bounce out of the door to attend a basket weaving class (or similar).

In the 11 hours that I have been awake today I have: read three chapters of Brideshead Revisited, drunk 3 mugs of tea and half-heartedly pushed the hoover around the front room. There is nothing else. I lie. I also ate 3 M&S cookie dunkers and fed the cat. I don't like Homebase, I don't want to learn Indian Head Massage and I can't afford to have my hair done. Is this all there is?

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