Whether it's washing machines, showers or mice, there's always something wrong with our house. At the moment the bloke who lives in the flat below us has a ceiling full of water which nearly collapsed on his head, which, personally, I think would have been quite funny. He left us a note saying could we please not use the bath as his ceiling was dripping. The thing is, no one has had a bath in the past three months. I dread to think what's really causing it.

When Tori and Natalie come out of their lecture in half an hour, we're going to the cinema. To see 50 First Dates. I'm going to try my hardest to enjoy the film but I already know it's going to be shit (I'm not big on chick flicks plus the Sun gave it a bad review and of course, what the Sun says, goes.)

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