- drumroll please -

...absolutely bugger all.

Now, this may be personal preference, but I would far rather have received a reply of pure, unadulterated rejection than to have nothing at all. We all know silence can speak volumes but what it's *actually* saying is a big mystery. All now I can do is speculate WHY until I take a mallet to my ego, hammer out the dents in it and forget all about it.

As if that wasn't bad enough, it actually got worse. There was a big queue of people waiting to enter the Old Bailey this morning and (seriously, you can't make this stuff up) I turned up at THE EXACT SAME TIME AS HIM. I don't think he saw me so I ran away and hid behind a tree, not even caring that I risked being late (and holding up Barry George's retrial of all things). Despite boasting 18 courts and five floors, the Old Bailey, it seems, is just not a big enough place to hide.

And do you know why this has all happened? BECAUSE FATE HATES ME, THAT'S WHY! I am its donkey and it likes to tauntingly waggle a carrot on a stick just out of my reach and then, when I think things can't get any worse, it starts hitting me over the head with it.

Crape Diem - when attempts at seizing the day go horribly wrong.

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