Got in on Saturday night pretty wasted, and wrote the following at 3am: 

Tonight kinda reminded me how much I used to enjoy school.  Thinking back is kinda like crawling back into a foetus position, there were no reponsibilities, and no stress; there was homework, but when you were free, you were free, and nothing really mattered.  I was forever young, and didn’t really think about tomorrow.  I used to be really good friends with a girl, and was best mates with her brother at secondary school.  We kinda drifted apart since then, and only really saw each other at Xmas.  She moved back down to Cornwall a few months back, and I see her out quite regularly nowadays.  She was such a nice girl, and she still is in a way, but has been messed about by some wanker.  They went away together abroad, and from what I can gather he used to beat her up and attempted to rape her.  I really don’t know what the point to this post is, other than I find it depressing the way the world has fucked up a lot of my friends since we were young, naive and carefree.

Not quite sure what to make of that… just some cheery drunken ramblings really… I guess it was a true reflection of how I was feeling at the time, think I just had a shit night at the end of a shit week really… I’m normally a happy drunk (when drinking, not in the alcoholic sense)… thought I’d include it all the same…

Have just fallen in love with some of the clothing at All Ends… am trying not to break out the credit card… damn cheap at 12 squid a tee…

Came across this which rocks… pretty impressive for a 4kb flash file.

Have another random piece of text which may one day form part of the book.  Written 02/02/04, I’m really hoping my writing has somehow improved since as this isn’t up to much…

The drizzle splattered on the kitchen window, before snaking downwards.  It had been raining all day, to the extent that I had to take the car to the newsagents earlier; I wasn’t going to let the weather ruin my new hairdo.  Harry complained when he heard how much it cost, and consequently showed no interest in it.  I love you for who you are, he said, and not for your haircut.  Still he’d be the first to complain if he came home from work to find I needed another trip to the salon.  He’ll be in a bad enough mood anyway, working on the site in this miserable weather.  The moment the door opens at quarter past six he’ll open his mouth to moan about what went wrong today, and who was off sick.  He never seems to notice that I too have stressful days, what with Christmas presents to buy, and meals to plan.  “Presents don’t buy themselves”, I tell him, it takes time and effort. 

“You can’t just give someone the first thing you come across, each present should suit the recipient.  By buying something at a price less than half that of the high streets, you can afford to spend more, and buy a better quality of gift.”

Wasting money he calls it.  He’s already destroyed two of my credit cards, to stop me “buying crap off the telly”, but I won’t let that stop me.

“You know it’s Christmas coming up.  Of course you do, it’s that time of year again, the relatives are coming around, the larder is stocked, and you’re all prepared.  But are you?  Have you bought all of your gifts?  Are you going to be surprised by an unexpected visitor, bringing unexpected presents?  You never can tell who is going to visit you in these festive times, and there’s nothing worse than standing there embarrassed and empty handed.  You could of course go down to your local shop and buy a box of choccies, but why not be that little bit more inventive, and have a look at what we’ve got for you after the break; matching silver plated egg whisks and tin openers.  Only 250 sets in the uk, and we’re selling them at a price you can’t afford to miss.  But first, over to the dashing Des, who will be showing you our gorgeous diamondesque broochs, with free cufflinks for the first 30 shoppers.”

With a click, the bubbling faded, and the steam stopped rising.  The water was poured onto the bag, diffusing the subtle ginger and ginseng flavour, splashing as it neared the rim.  A quick stir, and with a delicate flick, the bag was removed and the drink was ready.  It had taken a while for her to get used to this unusual taste, and she still found the aroma a little off putting, but Sarah persevered.  It was good for you, all these herbs and stuff, meant to prevent arthritus or something.  Made from all natural ingredients, the box said, so it couldn’t be bad.  Besides it was on special offer, and Harry would only start going on again if she didn’t drink it.

To be continued dot dot dot dot dot