As Jenn's laptop has been out of action for the past couple of months, we were all of a sudden left Internetless. For four days. It was traumatising. I think I even felt the seasons change over the course of that time.

However, I've been having an eventful time over the past week or so. I was at home last Friday and had an evening with Tori followed by a Saturday out at Hampton Court Palace with Katie and Gurpreet. I was stung by a wasp! And it still itches. Unfortunately, as it's high up on my thigh I've banned myself from scratching it in public lest I give off the impression I'm a lice-riddled ho.

Last Sunday I went to Church. Now, before a look of perplexed puzzlement grasps your collective faces, I wish to explain that Church couldn't be further from the well-known religious establishment you're thinking of. It's basically daytime partying in the Kentish Town Forum, complete with bags of beers which you tie to yourself, and strippers. Can't forget the strippers, especially "All the Way Jay", whose name, I feel, needs no explanation and is certainly not someone you'd find at your local Roman Catholic place of worship.

A brief nap Sunday afternoon (after meeting many a character at Church, including an Austrian dude who liked "lifting and kissing") and soon it was time to go out to Infernos, which we stayed at until 3.00 am.

Monday (thank fuck for Bank Holidays) I rested, zzzzzzzzz.

My health over the past couple of months has been ridiculous. I've had cold followed by cold followed by cold, only the cold I had last week began taking a sinister turn when it only seemed to affect one side of my face. I had an aching cheekbone and forehead, earache and toothache. Ah, it'll go away in due course, I thought, until people began commenting that I should probably really go to the doctors as blocked sinuses and whatnot can turn a bit nasty.

As I said, I had the Friday off work and was back in Stevenage and so *my mum* brought it upon herself to ring up the doctor's and make me an appointment for that day. I can picture the receptionist's grinning face as my mum said 'Hello, I would like to make an appointment for my 25 year old daughter.' Though I did feel like a treasured child, so it's not all bad.

At the docs I explained that I thought I had a blocked sinus and the doctor duly took it upon herself to prod and squeeze my sore, pressurised cheek until I let out a light scream. I would say she was slightly evil but to be fair she was probably only taking revenge for the answer I gave when asked what colour my mucus was. It appears 'a fetching sunsetty orange' isn't an appreciated description and blocked sinuses are not a laughing matter. Still, I got the drugs and am fine now. What a happy end to that tale!

I think my poor health has been my own fault though. I've spent pretty much the entire summer burning the candle at both ends and drinking far too much. I'm surprised my liver hasn't sprouted wings, burst out of my body Alien style and flown to the nearest re-hab clinic in the manner of a homing pigeon. Consequently, when offered a glass of wine last night I decided to have an orange juice and soda instead. Delicious! I don't know how long this is going to last though - on a scale of 1 to 10 I would say "not very" considering it's Tori's birthday today, and I am eagerly anticipating this evening's celebratory night out in Watford.

"A good intention is better than no intention at all," once said a wise, erm... yeah I just made that up on the spot.

Cheerio for now.

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