After work yesterday I went for some drinks with my fellow trainees and also the group of trainees who started six months before us. Much merriness and frivolity ensued and I'm under the impression a good social network is blossoming. I think most of us are wannabe students, which we are kind of, only we're getting paid a salary for the privilege too. It is like having cake and consuming cake.

Earlier I caught myself thinking 'What drunken bollocks did I write in Diaryland when I got in last night?' and I had a look and it's just baffling, frankly, so I will attempt a translation.

Two months since xmas eve and all I can think is 'Is that it?'

What the bloody hell does this mean? I ask you. It makes no sense as the past two months have sped by. Maybe I was having issues with time when I wrote it.

I have a lot to report on. Tomorrow, maybe.

Probably a load of waffle about work which would bore anyone to tears. I am going to see Hot Fuzz with Katie tonight though, yay.

I think I'm falling in love again in the most inappropriate and boyfriendless way. Hoorah! (/sarcasm)

Aha, this is where it gets slightly interesting!

I have basically been in lust with a man I frequently see at the swimming pool for quite some time now, whom I named 'Mr Hot Italian-Looking Man' (I don't think this needs explanation in any form). I found out on Tuesday his name is Damian, which is quite possibly the least Italian-sounding name ever (perhaps bar Harold). I had to restrain myself from demanding to know why he didn't get his name changed by deed poll to Gianni or Giuliano or Luigi or something. I'm sure that would have gone down GREAT.

Anyway, a while ago we started saying 'hello' in the reasonably likely event we would be in the pool at the same time. A couple of weeks ago, on the day it snowed, the pool was practically deserted and I saw him on the way out and HE...SPOKE TO ME! (God, I talk as excitedly as if I just discovered a new colour or something.)

Alas, I thought, it was too late as I would be starting my new job and would never be at the pool at the same time as him anymore and informed him of this and he looked (mock, I think) upset. However, due to the fact I finish work around 4.15 and not the 5.00 pm specified in my contract, I have since seen Mr Hot Italian-Looking Man (I admit, I am struggling with 'Damian' a little) twice this week and had longer conversations with him about all kinds of things and I think he may (though of course I could be very, very wrong) like me maybe just a tiny bit. And I find myself thinking of him and being gleeful somewhat. He is lovely.

I'll probably find out soon that he has a wife or ten children by eleven different mothers or something (he is 31) but I suppose you could say that for now I am hopeful.


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