We're not in Kansas now, Toto.

I think I must be the only chump in the world who is actually cold in this weather. Our air conditioning has been fairly icy - though I think it's on the brink now because it's getting quite warm. Last night I woke up because I was so cold, which is frankly quite bizarre. I have been adopting the "stark naked starfish" position to get to sleep, but I normally wriggle a lot, which makes me a pain to sleep with. This morning at about six, I woke up shivering. Also, I was very hungover, thanks to downing a bottle of wine on the back steps in a fit of misery, and then going to the pub. So it wasn't a great start to the day, and I have managed to convince myself that the only thing that will make it better is diet coke, which I don't have.

I still haven't been to the GP and now my hip is painful not only when I'm walking but when I'm sitting down too. I should really make an appointment to see my GP, but I know I'll just be back at Kings getting physio again - wooo, I'm going to be a lifelong member of the mangled bodies society. Get involved. Also, through not eating properly, I have managed to lose some weight since the day of doom (ie 2nd July), which isn't a bad thing, but annoyingly a lot of muscle strength too. For example, at ballet, I've recently been doing triple pirouettes - really nice ones. But yesterday I couldn't do them, and it was really irritating. My legs are still strong (barring falling over a lot) but my back and stomach are just like bleurrrgh.

Things in Camp Mansions came to a bit of a breaking point on Tuesday and I feel hella guilty because it's quite clearly - although no one will say it - my fault. Here's the story of how my house turned into the poor man's version of the Alton Tower's Haunted Mansion. To set the scene, do you remember how #1 and #4 were always flirting and I was advising her not to shag him? Well, they did - which was the day before efftits came round (odd in itself, surely). And then again on #1's birthday, where it all went wrong. He lost his temper and got violent, and generally nasty. #1 told me about it that night because she was so scared, and he was trying to convince her that it was her fault (saying things like "you made me do it" and "every other girl I've ever told to shut up like that has just done it, why couldn't you?"). She tried to reason with him that she didn't want to be physically threatened, let alone thrown against a chest of drawers, or have marks round her wrists, or have him grab her face to forcibly make her be quiet. She was once hit by an ex boyfriend (haven't we all, it seems?), and when she tried to explain this to him he said, "What? Am I meant to believe that? Poor stupid blonde girl gets hit? Fuck off!"

So it was about three in the morning, she was crying, I was shaking with anger and ready to call the police. She made me promise not to say anything to him or to #2, and that I should act like I knew nothing. I agreed. In the morning they had another row because he wouldn't accept responsibility for what he'd done, but it was decided that everything should go on as normal. #1 really tried to act as if nothing was wrong, and I did try too. It's just that the thought of having someone like that in my house makes me feel physically sick. I don't agree with violence per se - not on a grand scale, such as the armed forces, nor on a smaller, personal scale - and I really object to domestic violence. #4's argument has been "it's not like I actually hit you", which is, from a moral and legal point of view, completely irrelevant.

I tried to act like there was nothing wrong, as did #1, but inevitably I fucked it up. He obviously suspected that she would tell me, as we tell each other everything. That weekend, #1 and I came back from town, quite pissed, to find the whole house stinking of ganja. We grumbled about it to each other in the kitchen while we made a pizza (read: put pizza in oven, wait 10 mins, hey presto - Jamie Oliver we are not). #4 came into the kitchen, and I asked him to remember, if he insisted on smoking in the living room, that he should shut the door and open the window. He told me to get off my moral high horse, and that I'd smoked in there before. "Yes, one cigarette," I told him. "The whole house smells." Because he's such an arrogant fuckwit, he couldn't just say sorry, and he replied that he couldn't smell anything in the kitchen, which is just ridiculous, as of course he couldn't, he'd been in the living room. He lost his temper and I told him to get out, and that I wouldn't be spoken to again like that. We haven't really spoken since. I think he should say sorry, he has been saying that I "went psycho" at him. But it all means that he accused #1 of telling me what had happened on the night of her birthday, and telling #2 that as well. If I had just kept quiet, or been more placid, then maybe things would have been okay. But I didn't, because I couldn't, and I am a huge part of this messing up.

#4 went away for a week or so, but came back and continued to act sullenly, and on Tuesday morning, #1 asked him when he was going stop this. He said that she'd told me, and that he hadn't done anything wrong. His actual words were: "for the first time in my life, I know that I did nothing wrong in this whole thing." He accused her of ruining the whole house dynamics, though she pointed out that he'd done that when he'd gripped her face like that. He stood in the corridor shouting "shut the fuck up you stupid bitch" for a while - all this time, I was in my room, "not knowing" (how am I meant to not know if something like this is going on - please, will someone credit me with some intelligence? I am sick of being lied to). That night, we asked him to leave. Since then, I have overheard him trying to bring #2 round to his side, and the whole thing makes me sick. Is #2 so stupid to believe him? And so insensitive to act like this in front of #1, who blames herself for the whole thing and is now worried that #2 doesn't believe her, or that she thinks badly of her.

The whole thing probably sounds really trivial to anyone reading about it, but it's really bothering me. #4 is leaving next weekend, but until then I feel like I can't go in a room if he's already in it, and I need to watch what I say in case he goes mad. I don't like living like this. People shouldn't have to live with the threat of violence - I thought I knew that (I do know that) but here I am again. Admittedly it's not as bad as it was the last time, or at least, it's different to the last time, for a plethora of reasons. But it's really got me thinking. I'm terrified that he will say something, like one of those awful comments cockface used to come out with, the ones that sent me rushing to the nearest lockable room. I am meant to be this strong character but really, I feel like a little girl, and I feel like there is nowhere I feel safe. I wish N still loved me because he could hold me and everything would feel better. But if I start thinking like that, I start feeling so sad, and I miss him too much.

I need to concentrate on the good things in my life, but sometimes I struggle to think of what these things are. My body appears to be falling apart, from the inside out. I love someone who I am slowly realising never loved me. My house (see above). I am baffled by my loan application and worried about not getting it, and not being able to do the Masters I dearly want to do. My job is unfulfilling and I think members of staff should not get away with shouting at me simply because I told him to look on the intranet (this man is not only the rudest man in the organisation, but probably the rudest man in Britain - I guess I got away lightly seeing as he made one of his colleagues cry the other week... such a horrible man). Oh yeah, and my PC seems to be up the swanny, so does anyone want to come round and fix it?

But those are all the negatives. The good things in my life... well, my family and friends. I am very lucky to have such good friends (although a little perplexed as to why some of the other people I count as friends seem to be ignoring me completely). I have recently got in touch with various people I haven't seen in ages, in some cases years, and that's all good. My close friends continue to be amazing. I complain about my job, but if it weren't for the people there, I would go mad, as there are some lovely people here. I got a call today at work that made me smile a lot. I have nice things planned for the weekend.

Is it bad that all the good things in my life are completely dependent on other people, and that I run a risk of losing everything if they change their minds? Because, let's face it, people can say all sorts of things and change their minds, and even if they're really sorry, it doesn't make it any better. I think I need a hobby, or something that doesn't remind me of everything that's come before.

Anyway, in other news, the situation in the Middle East gets worse, and I have been reading about what happens if you make a pizza in the shape of Palestine.