I think its the PMS. But I my emotional walls are crumbling from the onslaught of hormones. I could feign nonchalance..but alas, the vicious diatribe directed against myself is too vicious to fight off. I need a drink. or a couple. or better yet, I'd better go down my off-licence to have my friendly Indian shopkeeper recommend the best Merlot they have.

Seriously.

I'm off work for three weeks. And in that time frame, I'm deliciously indulging myself in the thoughts of "if I have a million pounds --" or better yet to make it more realistic "if I have thirty five thousand pounds--"

Sigh.

Spent the weekend cooking meal after meal and watching warehouse 13. And yes, reading inanely trite but completely engrossing to my prepubescent self --Gemma Burgess. She actually gave a couple of good pubs and bars around London that I might try and recommend to other people to appear "in the know."

I haven't been really blogging for awhile now, but reading books the past couple of days has brought home to me how important it is that I cultivate a hobby (that I may parlay it to a skill worth millions and millions of pounds). Its nice to dream though.

I try to seriously think about writing something bombastic. I read about the works of one of my old college pals, (who writes now for the national newspaper) and I think to myself that it is a bit disheartening that I know I can write beautiful things but I don't.

I have an idea for a book that want to write --but its a bit too personal to actually write it. I can never look at anyone else's face again if it comes to light. I might do a bell de jour and do it anonymously.

Who knows?

On other news, my NMC thing is ticking off nicely --happy times.