It took us nearly 4 hours

to erect, but we finally finished at 12.45am. The doors don't quite fit, and I'm too tired to put anything in it, but we have a wardrobe. One of two that we bought. It's lovely. But like fuck could it have taken just 60 minutes for two trained monkeys to build. The thing's a bloody beast, and it was touch and go for a minute that Stage 14 would result in anything resembling a drawer unit....How quickly we attempt the other one is anyone's guess. I reckon sometime before Christmas....2010.

Brime of Live...

I have been struck down in the brime of live with a stinky cold. My nasal passages have shrunk to nothingness and a pressure mask is covering my entire face with snot. Even my hair and eyelashes hurt.

Obv, have been a brave soldier and struggled into New Work – and am currently annoying the shite out of my co-workers with a never ending cough and snot-fest and every word I utter seems to begin with a D or a B. My desk buddy – the one who looks like Keira Knightley, but without the fucking pout – has both called me a Germoid, and given me a sachet of Lemsip – but I’m sure I heard her mutter under her breath for me to shut-the-fuck-up. Or am I just paranoid?

I know I’m proper ill cause all I want is a thick white bread Marmite sandwich. So I’ve eaten the two I made this morning for my packed lunch already. And I now want a Double Decker. And some cherryaid. From Happy Shopper.

Other stuff to report. The rearranging of NickNackery is still consuming my every waking (and sleeping) hour. I have a snagging list of 101 jobs to do still - ranging from getting a window cleaner, swapping Doctors, buying some new lounge curtains (am thinking mocha coloured…), building the rest of the new bedroom furniture, buying some new plants pots, getting a new kettle, treating Boo to a new tool box and making the extractor fan in the kitchen work.

I’m off to see The Family this weekend. That’s the plan anyway. Hopefully I’ll be feeling less feeble in the morning, and will be able to get my gander up for the 2 hour journey. Am desperate for some Neice time, and The Sister and I are planning a Thai meal out tomorrow night with booze – so obviously am loath to miss that!

Next week brings a trip to see a New Work customer in Brighton called… wait for it… Pussy. (I love my job). The Mother of the Bride is coming over on Wednesday afternoon to wait in for the various workmen that are due to the flat to fix things. The upstairs heater, the dripping tap, the chugging tap etc etc. And next week Saturday The Girls are out for beautiful friend Lorrie’s birthday fandango. We are going to have a nice grown up meal at Sam’s in Chiswick, then get Pie-Eyed-Paullina’s at Revolution down the road on vodka jelly shots… Sunday is, as you all know, Mother’s Day, so the tradition of taking The Mother for posh afternoon tea continues, with a trip to The Landmark Hotel for some Taittinger Champagne and cucumber sandwiches. Heaven.

An update on The Rules. It’s all gone a bit to pot to be honest. I’ve just been waylaid with other stuff. I’ve been shocking about recycling all my rubbish. I’ve got to clear up my new rubbish area first – god knows what’s been left down there by the previous occupant – and then I can start again properly. My hands are all dry and poorly with all the scrubbing and storage box building and moving. I will try and moisturize them more often. I’ve bought lunch from the shop most days for the past couple of weeks – but in fairness that’s cause I’ve been emptying the old cupboards and haven’t had time to fill the new cupboards properly yet. I will do. At some point. The finger nails are shot to bits, so no need to paint them. Will be dealing with the toes this weekend. I’ve scrubbed the body, but not moisturized it. It takes too bloody long. I’m a bit snakeskinny at the moment really. Squash, give or take, is my drink of choice during the day. But I’ve been having lots of lovely Diet Coke at home. I love it. I refuse to stop drinking it. Even if it is burning my stomach lining away little by little. And I have pretty much stuck to the three a day coffee regime. I haven’t walked briskly for about 3 weeks. I’m rubbish and I just cant be fucking bothered. I can’t do the slimy lip balm thing either. It just feels horrible. I don’t know how people do it. I do eat at the table. Except of course, when I’m eating in bed, standing up in the kitchen or on my lap on the sofa. I haven’t been in M&S – but that’s just cause I’m skint. I’ve lost my food diary and the carbs have found me. Save £250 a month - are you kidding me?!!?! As for going on a date with Boo once a month. All I can say is… huh?

That’s it for today. Must crack on. Think of me, and my poorly bunged up sinus region. Send me a cake. Or a Double Decker. I thank you.

In Like Flynn

Nearly two hours later than expected three 'yoofs' arrived in a van pretending to be from the reputable removal firm I had booked to carry out the moving house extravaganza. One ripped sofa, a badly damaged chest of drawers and a dented fridge door later and I had officially moved out of stinky studio into fabulous flat.

As expected the bed, wardrobes and new drawer unit didn’t arrive on time (in fact, they only came this morning) and the brand spanking new washing machine didn’t work – but bar that, everything went A. OK. Poor old Boo worked like a dog all weekend, and we are now so moved in, we’ve even got pictures up on the walls and a whole dedicated drawer of folded tea towels in the kitchen.

I’ve never had so much space.

It’s weird.

And a bit echo-y.

I’ve now got a whole separate room to go to bed in and a whole separate room to watch TV in.

It’s exhausting all this moving from room to room. Thank God it’s not a house – I’d be forced to pick a floor and stick to it.

Anyway, other than spending every minute of the day thinking about furniture arrangement, gas meter readings and dripping bathroom taps, I managed to finally finish the new Marian Keyes which is coming out in May. It has taken me an extraordinarily long time to wade through… and I’ve been trying to work out why. Firstly, it could be that I’ve had about 15 books on the go this past month – and I’m not very good at dipping in and out really. It could be because I’ve had an awful lot going on recently, which has seriously limited my available reading time. Or thirdly, and much more worryingly – it could be cause it just didn’t blow me away as much as every other book Marian Keyes has written. Now, don’t start getting all huffy, it is – as are all of her books – brilliant. It is funny with superb characters and a sensational plot. It’s beautifully observed with great prose and all that other “literary” clap trap that people use to pad out reviews that would otherwise just say “I loved it, you will too, and if you don’t, you are a fucking idiot!”. But I was left feeling a bit unfulfilled at the end, without the usual “Oh My God How Fantastic Was That?” euphoria I normally get. I don’t know, maybe I’m loosing my mind, maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m the fucking idiot – but you read it and then let me know – cause I’m at a loss to be honest….

My head is in a spin

Since I last wrote, the following has been occuring. I watched Toby Anstis doing a Body Attack class at the gym. Boy, that boy can bounce. (He no longer looks like this mind)

I went to a dead posh hospital with my dear friend Mel who got some bloody great news. If she ever tells a living sole that I cried like a baby, I will a) deny, b) deny, c) punch her in the chops.

I (finally) got offered a transfer from my stinky studio in stinky Southall - to a much larger, much cleaner, much less stinky flat in Olde Hanwell. Hurrah for me.

I went to the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond to see my lovely friend's musical play "Next Door's Baby". It's great. Very funny, very touching - bloody catchy songs.

Boo and I spent an entire day shopping for furniture. We argued almost the entire time.

I started packing. I still am packing. I think the "stuff" is breeding.

I saw my beautiful neice. She sat on my lap to watch Aladdin. She's got very similar random fidgets to me and spent almost the entire film drawing circles on my legs with her little tiny hands.... I spent the entire film with a lump in my throat.

I carried on packing.

I ate an entire family bag of Maltesers in about 3 minutes.

I waited outside my new flat for 3 hours waiting for my new carpet to be fitted. Its lovely and bouncy and clean.

I did a bit more packing, and then a bit more.

I move tomorrow. I expect everything to go wrong. I am so not a half-full kind of a girl....

Tell me no lies

To celebrate the publication of my mate’s new book LITTLE WHITE LIES , her lovely publisher is offering someone – maybe YOU, the chance to win a weekend for two in a fab hip hotel in Brighton, plus £200 spending money! So, go to their web site to confess your own worst little white lie and enter the competition.

Also, go and buy the book tomorrow – it’s bloody great!

And whilst you're at it, why not grab yourself a couple of seats at the lovely Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond to see Bernie’s new musical play Next Door’s Baby which opens tonight and runs till 8th March.

RNA

Yesterday was the Romantic Novelist of the Year Award 2008 luncheon held at the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington. I’ve been to these "bit-of-a-do" functions twice before – both times at The Savoy, both times held in April. In a break from tradition for some reason it’s been bought forward to February – maybe to increase the sales and promotion potential at what must be the best possible gifting season for Romance - Valentine’s Day!

The longlist included such greats as Josie Lloyd & Emlyn Rees for The Seven Year Itch , Adele Parks for Young Wives’ Tales , Penny Vincenzi for An Absolute Scandal and Jo Jo Moyes for Silver Bay.

The winner was a well deserving Freya North for the brilliant Pillow Talk .

The Romantic Novelists' Association (RNA) was set up way back in the 1960’s to promote respect for the genre. For more information log onto their website. It's not all blue rinses, twin sets and pearls you know...