I really want to eat goats cheese... mmm... goats cheese

A bit of a funny weekend to be honest. I’ve had such massive mood swings that I have been driven myself mad. For example, on Thursday, coming home from ballet, I was in such a good mood that I was almost laughing to myself. But yesterday, during the day, I felt so utterly rubbish that I wanted to cry. I didn’t though. I haven’t cried in ages (other than at films or books- which doesn’t count, as I always cry at films). I used to cry all the bloody time but it seems that I’ve grown up a little bit. Which is a relief, being nearly twenty-two and all.

After work on Friday I headed over to LSE. I only had about a fiver in my wallet, but I figured I could just go for one drink. I jumped on the bus (not paying, of course- as I said, I’m poor!) and went there. I wasn’t really in the mood for it when I got there. I was just being grouchy, especially as some moron knocked a drink over me. Anyway, S was there and although she wasn’t going to drink, she saw someone she didn’t want to see and decided to get pissed. I was just drinking pints with M. S told me that M only dances when he’s really pissed, but I’ve danced with him before (to be honest, that was in Camden when we were really pissed, kinda proving S’s point) and we danced again, to some awfully cheesy music. All the cool kids were giving us disapproving looks. Understandable really. Not only were we not wearing skinny jeans and super-cool tshirts, with asymmetrical fringes, but we were, shock horror, DANCING TO NOT COOL MUSIC. Much fun, anyway. Incidentally, I’d gone for less of a childish look than normal (that is to say, I didn’t choose my normal got-dressed-in-the-dark look, with all manner of colours thrown together, and instead I tried to look like an adult). It didn’t really work all that well on me, though SH told me I looked like a film star. I think she might have just been saying that to be nice.

Some other people came along- some of the boys who were in the year above me, which was just as well really as both S and SH were talking to other people most of the evening. Me and the boys drank more pints, I ‘borrowed’ a hat from one of them (it looked far better on me than on him, even if I do say so myself), one of them tried to do self-defence on me (or more like, pointlessly attack me)… M and I contemplated trying to find some Ritalin, but decided against it. SH tried to get me to talk to some random guy who was literally staring at me, but I didn’t want to. She tricked me into changing places with her and he started talking to me, at which point I made a lame excuse (something along the lines of “excuse me, I have to and talk to that person over there”). I wasn’t happy that SH had tried to force me to talk to him, especially as she knows that I’m seeing J (or whatever it is I’m doing with J). Anyway, I wasn’t too annoyed and drank more beer, which made everything okay.

Eventually I got too pissed off with being there, and decided to go home. SH was leaving at the same time, so we walked down to the Aldwych together. We spent twenty minutes or so having a chat about everything- or pretty much everything anyway- and then I took the bus home. Thanks to my (suspected) tapeworm, I was really hungry and couldn’t wait to get home. However, I did manage to take my boots off before going in the front door, which I was pleased about. Camp Mansions has wooden floors, and with my boots, it makes a lot of noise. I managed to fall over while barefoot, but I didn’t burn myself while cooking. I then read a couple of pages of my book before passing out on top of my duvet.

I was woken up, not by a steam train this week, but by the sunlight pouring in my window. I hadn’t shut my curtains the night before, and my legs felt warm from the sun. I was actually pretty excited by it, as I haven’t seen proper sun like this for ages. I bounded out of bed and went to the kitchen to wash up last night’s plates and drink tea with camper#1. She wanted her hair cut, so we checked out where she should go and got her an appointment. I tidied up my room a bit, put some laundry on, that kind of thing. I suddenly had an urge to listen to this one particular song, so I rummaged through all my cd’s until I found. It’s by AM60, and it’s probably one of my favourite songs. It was a pretty cool morning and afternoon really- getting stuff done, drinking vast amounts of tea, sitting in the sun, listening to happy music, and speaking to many different people on the phone.

Normally, I am always the youngest. For example, at work, I’m one of the youngest in the whole office. R and C (my smoking buddies) are 28, T is 31… the only one who is roughly my age is K, who’s 23. At home, I’m the youngest too. Even other friends from uni are older than me- Wolf is 26 now. So I’m used to being the silly one, the one who’s allowed to be stupid and drunk, the one who can have moments of utter madness. It also means that I get given lots of advice, which sometimes I appreciate, and sometimes I don’t. I’m pretty stubborn and bloody-minded, and often I’ll plough ahead with things despite knowing that it’s probably not the most sensible move. That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate other people’s wisdom. For example, T’s housemate gave me some of the best advice ever. It does get a little wearing sometimes though. However (I did have a point to this, I promise), on Friday night- and thus Saturday daytime on the phone- I felt like the eldest, as I was the one giving advice. I was probably still one of the youngest (M and the other boys are at least a year or two older, and SH is older), but I felt very mature on Saturday afternoon, when on the phone. I don’t know whether that’s because I was sharing my insightful words of wisdom, or whether I was deluding myself. I like to think the former.

J sent me a text to tell me that he wouldn’t be coming round after all so I made yet another pot of tea and turned up the AM60. I wasn’t very pleased, as I hate it when people say that they’ll do something, only to not do it. In fact, I’d say that it’s #1 on my list of pet hates (I will put the list on here at some point, if I can remember). I was quite annoyed at first, as it riled me that he’d made a conscious decision to act in a way that would prevent him from coming round (ie. get hammered and not go to sleep). After ten minutes or so, I wasn’t really pissed off about it. I know I’ve done things like that too. And it’s surely nice that he didn’t want to come when he was tired and crap. He said he’d come round the next day (Sunday) anyway, so I think that eased my mood a little too.

Camper#1 got back from the hairdressers, looking lovely. She has very thick, long blonde hair. We decided to go out and show off her fab new look, just locally. I got in the shower, as I still had yesterdays makeup on. Camper#2 was playing Kylie Minogue really loudly, which made my shower a bit more interesting. We went off to Escape, a bar/gallery just next to the train station. The plan was to give men marks out of ten, but Escape was lacking in anyone worth even considering. The man at the table next to us had the most hideous jumper on, and we tried to figure out whether he was wearing it to be ironic, or whether it was a present from his grandmother. Next, we went to the Commercial, which is quite a cool pub. It was packed, and as we were looking for somewhere to perch, a man came over and told us about some dude doing magic tricks that we should check out. We went to check this out… and my god, they were amazing. I’m normally very sceptical about magic tricks and find them infuriating (I hate not knowing how to do things). When we went to see Derren Brown, we all picked holes in everything he’d done- even though I really enjoyed it. Anyway, this guy was amazing. He made a cigarette disappear into someone’s jumper, did some card tricks and put a rope back together. He was asking people for money, and then moving to the next table. He must have made a fortune. After he’d gone, we talked to the people who’d told us about the magic tricks. They were all on a football team and most of them were complete wankers. One of them told me repeatedly that I was stupid and wrong, and said the immortal line of “I’m not a racist, yeah, but…” #1 and I were really sick of them but #2 thought they were funny. #1 and I went to stand at the other side of the pub and had a drink and a chat. When #2 finally came back, she was really drunk. Then the moronic men came over again and we got in arguments with them. I was told that I was young and stupid, so I told them that I was actually 27. It wasn’t all that convincing as I had my hair in pigtails. Another of them was trying to impress #1 with his knowledge of who Hamas are. I was glad to get home. #2 fell up the stairs. #1 and I made some food and had some more beer, and then she passed out on her bed. I decided that I wanted to get stupidly drunk and got some vodka from my room. I was feeling a bit destructive and figured that vodka would be the only way I would ever get to sleep. I started worrying about J again, even though I’m pretty sure he likes me. I ended up drinking so much that I couldn’t see, and I felt a lot happier.

At one point I fell over, and as I was falling, I had a thought. I only remember this because I wrote it down in my notebook: ‘I may be a fuck up but this is the most at home I’ve ever felt and I never want to leave… Amazingly, I’m happy’

In the morning, I woke up feeling really crap. Instead of staying in bed and dwelling on it, I decided to get up. I cleaned the kitchen, made some tea and chain smoked for a while. All four campers sat in the kitchen feeling shitty. I decided to rename Camp Mansions ‘Camp Death’ as it seemed more apt. I made some food, which made me feel a lot better, and then I had a nap. I didn’t think J would get in touch, because I was being really paranoid. When he did, I still didn’t think that he would come round, so when I got a text from him, and I was still sat in my pyjamas with yesterdays make up on my face, it was a bit of a shock, to say the least. I have never showered and dressed so quickly! Luckily he found his own way to Camp Death, and we had a lovely evening. It’s funny. I’d been mildly annoyed with him on Saturday and had convinced myself that he didn’t like me on Sunday, but when I saw him all was forgiven. We cooked some food (well, it was more him than me as he’s a great cook and I’m pretty rubbish) and watched some more ‘Peep Show’, and were asleep by midnight (actually no, I wasn’t, I had a migraine and I lay awake for bloody ages, but he held me anyway so I didn’t mind half so much).

This morning my five alarms managed to wake me up, and I made tea and had a shower before J got out of bed. It was all still really nice, and we spent lots of time hugging, before snogging on the train like teenagers and probably pissing off all the commuters (yay!!). I feel very happy about the whole thing with J, though I still don’t know what that ‘thing’ is.

Of course, the good mood disappeared pretty fucking rapidly when I realised that our chairman had been on tv yesterday, and we now had loads of bloody emails about it… a battle with the media department commenced… I can’t be bothered with it… It seems vaguely under control now. Tomorrow we have a team building away day thingy. It’s at a hotel in Southwark, and we get all our food for the day. Although I get paid tomorrow, I’m still going to make sure I get my money’s worth (after all, just cos I’ve got paid doesn’t mean I should spend it all at once, or something equally responsible… probably very sensible). I don’t know when I’m going to get a chance to go to the supermarket, so I might have to carry on eating my measly (and unappealing) rations until the weekend… though I hope not!!

On a very uplifting and excited note, I’m going to see the Royal Ballet tonight!! And Darcey Bussell will be performing. I cannot wait!!