onlyemma's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Crunchy friends in a liquid broth. So Kate�s moved out. She�s in London now, pretending to be all Southern. She�s got a job as a runner at a post-production place called Envy. It�s funny how it came about, especially as she was planning on being a midwife and all. However, she decided she wants to �give media a go", and she started there today. Most nights last week I could be found crying in her room, sobbing into her dirty (it must be by now) dressing gown and begging her not to go. I really miss going into her room and seeing her sitting on her little stool, telling me about her recent bargain purchase from the �chaz� shop. Kate seems to be settling in okay though and was quite chirpy when I rang her this evening whilst she was gallivanting around Tesco. We had a bit of a chat in bored voices, like we usually do when we miss each other but the need for the conversation has already been fulfilled, purely by the other one answering - reassuring us both that neither of us is dead. So it was a bit of a dead-pan exchange, I think she was buying mushrooms; and then I had to throw the phone to mum quick-sharp, as she�d put her tea down and was doing a grabbing movement with her hand, signalling she was ready for a chit-chat. We�re visiting Kate on Friday though, so that will be very nice indeed. I�m looking forward to seeing her as since she�s gone, I haven�t laughed the same. Though in other news, last week I spent the weekend in London myself. I did three more day�s work at the Big Brother auditions; which was muchos fun but did leave me wondering about my depleting sense of self-control, as the production crew had a suitcase full of snacks. I tried to tear myself away on many occasions, but when I wasn�t escorting someone to a chair or room I could usually be found rifling through the big pile of crisps and chocolate bars. At one point I settled on a bag of prunes in an attempt to self-restrict, but I felt the wrath the next day and so decided to continue on a more comfortable path towards obesity, with Penguins and Haribo. I was slightly disappointed by my weekend however, as I was not once chatted up by a single weird contestant! This was a bash to the ole self-esteem as through recent experience, I thought I was the perfect romantic material for the slightly unhinged. But alas, no. There were no Valentine�s cards written in blood for me this year. What else have I done? I�m asking this as if you can tell me. Nothing, really. The other day I went shopping and came away with nothing but a renewed sense of wonder. I got asked for money by not one, not two but THREE tramps. Clearly, I must look like I have dosh, though I cheerily went, "NOPE!" when they asked for, specifically, 70p. What can you do when you're declined so cheerily? Nothing. That's what. Anyway, you can tell my days are filled with many important things. I�m actually getting incredibly fed up of having nothing to do until April now. My days spread before me as a series of naps interspersed by tea breaks, the odd trip to the job centre to sign on, and the occasional begrudged bout of washing up. The highlight of my day yesterday was my mum getting me a tray of dates (evoking the age-old, �first date I�ve had in ages!� gag, as I popped the first one in my mouth). I�d sneakily written �dates (or prunes); cheapo wafer thin chicken� on my mum�s shopping list one boring morning (though to be truthful I don�t get up early these days, so it was probably afternoon) and I was pleasantly surprised when she bought my requested items. However, my delight was soon replaced by grave concern. I started thinking, is my life really so dull that my world can be brightened by the presentation of 12 sugar-rolled dates? And it forced me to come to a disturbing yet inevitable conclusion � I am prematurely aging in the old brain area. There is no other explanation! All the evidence points to it; you cannot get more confirmation than these awful truths: not only have I become a huge fan of shrivelled up fruit, I have also begun dabbling with custard creams (sometimes dipped in tea, sometimes not), and - this is the clincher - I have started warming up my cereal in the microwave. Now, what�s that all about? Isn�t heating my breakfast until it is hot slop completely defying the very essence of my cereal, in that it is Cinnamon Crunch? I think I need to get out of the house. 1:47 a.m. - 2008-02-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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