This is due to a few things, including the rapidly approaching Glastonbury and the fact my Tube line hasn't been on strike, but it's mainly to do with one person.

The Clerk.

It would appear he definitely, definitely likes me, much to my bafflement. I mean really, you spend six months working with a person which involves sitting right next to them and them seeing you in varying degrees of dishevelment, ranging from vaguely passable court attired to hungover as fuck and doing my level best not to puke in the court bin.

I mentioned before, one thing I loved was that we were so comfortable around each other - for want of a much less cliched saying, we just clicked and could talk about anything.

Obviously I have now totally lost that ability and today when we saw each other I was overcome with shyness and couldn't even squeak out two words.

But I'm so happy because for the first time in what seems like nearly forever, my heart actually feels like it has a function in life (well, other than the rather minor keeping me alive by pumping all the blood round my body purpose).

Hormones can be a right pain in the arse sometimes, but at others, fucking fantastic.

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