I'm going to Centre Parcs this weekend with Lornie, Hels, Jess, Richie and Chris K. We booked it ages ago because we're all usually miserable in January and now I'm really looking forward to it. You do have to pay extra for just about everything but I might treat myself to a few hours in the sauna and then a treatment (or two). It will also be a chance to say goodbye to Lorna as she's moving back home to Bournemouth next Tuesday. I've no doubt that we'll keep in touch and do lots of visits but it won't be the same as popping around after work to have a cup of tea with her!

It's a very changable time. I moved out of the 'rat house' in November, Lornie's moving out next week, Carla will move to Manchester in June/July and then Hels and Jess are going to terrorise the world after the summer (or the 'eat your heart out Thelma and Louise' epic). It's all bloody change everywhere. In some ways I feel like I'm going to be stuck in London forever, I have no idea about what I'm going to do next. Boyf and I are often bored of London but I really do like our little home. God knows what will happen. Also, with all 4 best friends leaving London this year I really should think about finding some new people to amuse me of an evening!

Is buying 10 books from a charity shop out of control behaviour?

I suddenly developed a frantic need for words. I'm clamboring for poems and stories and ideas. There's a lovely charity shop around the corner from my work and there's someone wonderful that hands in interesting books all the time. This week I've discovered Michèle Roberts' short stories about appitite and desire ("when asked the perennial question 'what do you write about?' Michèle Roberts, by her own account, likes to say 'food, sex and God'"), Carlo Gebler' Caught on a Train - 3 magical stories told to Irish youth and finally Michael Coleman's Tag. The last two are 'young adults' books but they are both written really well and both have wonderful, moving moments.

Last Saturday I enjoyed the latest Peter Ackroyd programme ‘The Romantics’ on BBC. Some parts were really crass - how many times do I need to see fake blood dropping onto cobbles to get that death was a big part of the French Revolution? For gods sake it literally rained blood during some footage. David Tennant as Rousseau and David Threlfall as Wordsworth were stand outs. Samuel Taylor Coleridge 'The Ancient Mariner' always brings a lump to my throat. My dad tried to learn it off by heart once...so, I know the first part particularly well!

Alone, alone,—all, all alone;
Alone on a wide, wide sea.
The Ancient Mariner. Part iv.

On a completely different note, I went to my doctor about my depression and she gave me Seroxatine. However, after 3 days of taking it I had a massive reaction against it. I was a work and found that I was unbearably happy - I was grinning at my monitor and laughing to myself. I decided to go for lunchtime swim to calm down but by the time I'd got back I felt like I was coming up on the best pill I've ever had. I was clammy handed, nervous, excited and becoming manic. I left work and went to see Lornie for a cup of tea. I spent around 2 hours picking things up, smiling at them and being generally weird! I went home, the boyf came in and demanded that I call NHS direct immediatly. Those of you who know me personally will know that I'm not a 'happy' person persay, I have dark moods that last for ages. I'm one of those people that look glum even if I'm perfectly happy inside! NHS direct nurse was lovely and managed to talk sense to me although I was rabbiting on...the emergency doctor called me back and told me to stop taking the tablets and to come down to the local Walk In Centre. He took one look at me and gave me lots of diazepam. He told me to take 4 (!) and then take 2 more (!) before bed. However, we couldn't find an open chemist and so the boyf had to put up with me manically climbing in and out of bed around 20 x that night. The next day I spent vomiting and suffering from what felt like the worst come-down ever. On the good side, I've been taking the diazepam and am now sleeping which has improved my mood and my brain functions (I have been being a little odd recently - loosing things, forgetting things, missing meetings, putting things in stupid places). At least I'm just back to the normal level of scattiness now...

These are for my dad. It's a picture of his first orchids that he grew from bulb which he sent to me for my birthday a couple of years ago. The grief is sometimes overwhelming but I'm getting there. This has made me realise how important my boy/f and friends are to me. They've all been great through this putting up with my panic attacks, changeable moods, demands for indulgence and general rattiness. A big thank you to you all xxx.

Lunchtime distractions from the general realms of despair that are surrounding me include typing random words into search engines and linking to the websites they suggest.

Today I put in Goths and Vampires and this appeared:

"All people suspected of being goths should have their bloodcounts regularly measured. If there is a shortfall, clearly they must be participating in Vampiric and Goth-like behaviour, in which case they can be sent to a place of Christian re-education"

I love this rant so much, a great joke and look at all the outraged goths replying below. Bless 'em.