I don't want to go back to Leicester! Last night was spent in London, which was just lovely. Sat on a table outside Leicester Square's All Bar One watching the people go by and soaking up the atmosphere. I loved it.

I WAS meant to be going to Frankie & Benny's (restaurant dealy, not cat and mouse cartoon rip-off) with the boyfriend tonight, only he departed my house earlier in order to watch the England match so it's been postponed until tomorrow. You can't keep men away from their football (I like it myself!) and a nagging wife I am not so I've been sat in tonight watching Pop Idol.

Oh yeah, he thinks I'm depressed too. Thing is, I don't think my general unhappiness can be attributed to a medical illness. Prozac isn't going to make the prostitutes go away. Manic Depressant Mouse isn't going to stop men asking me to get in their cars. It's not going to stop people chasing me through the street nor stop them approaching me and ask me if I'm "working". It's just something I'm going to have to get used to and yes I fucking hate it and it's ten times worse than I ever imagined it to be but there is absolutely NOTHING I can do about it!!

I think I'll stay here until Monday. My mum cooked me a delicious dinner tonight. It was the first time in over three weeks I had eaten vegetables and I could practically feel the goodness running through my veins (driving me insane).

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