What do you do when at work the only other female approximately your own age is training to be an engineer, lives for football and golf and is on a constant mission to prove how hard she is? The answer is to befriend Roberto the Ego because unfavourable personality traits aside I suspect that he is at least human. And because he calls me kidda which is quite a friendly term of endearment (I know but Christ, take what you can). I miss working with Fin Paul Gautier and laughing solidly until it hurts. Which reminds me; Have you seen how skinny Mena Suvari is on Six Feet Under? She has the ribs of a Battersea greyhound. (By the way be sure to click on that because it is the loveliest tale)

I�ve always found entertainment in the mundanity of people�s lives. I could sit and listen to people on another table all day long. They all have something funny to say. If it was anybody else, their eyes would glaze over � but that�s when my ears prick up

This was part of this weeks Radio Times interview with Craig Cash. It is exactly how I feel one hundred per cent of the time. I love catching trails of conversation. It may be the only advantage of being a public transport riding pleb. Last night my sister and I found that there are plenty of oddball conversation eavesdropping opportunities at the theatre but it would have been better if we had hip flasks at the ready. In fact I do not own a hip flask and I think it is time that I did.

Kind of worried at the moment (very large understatement but I�m keeping calm yo) because my close friend has bronchitis. This is sort of ok and mild on the hearty of lung* but pretty drastic on somebody who has a lot of health problems and a few months ago spent weeks in intensive care with septicaemia and pneumonia. I�m really worried that I am going to get one of those body stopping, blood freezing phone calls from her mother to say umm she�s in intensive care and might die I think you should come and see her.

* ew, hearty of lung
I have just realised how gross the word lung is. Imagine a big plate of lung.

I feel a bit empty. M has gone home. I�m sitting here where the only excitement involves the contemplation of which shade to paint my nails and the only conversation is in discussing with Boris why he should not try and ram-raid the cupboard to devour a whole sack of puppy food.

Tomorrow is a day I just want over already

Leaping out of the depressive, my chum has just popped up from nowhere (I think she was not on my list) and started chatting to me on messenger. The ping made jump.

Inkysoso looking towards Friday