Still, life's a bundle of laughs isn't it?! One week tomorrow I'm off for a three-day extravaganza at Butlins in Bognor Regis with Jenn and two of her friends. She hilariously won the holiday in a *Nintendo* competition. Delighted at a phone call informing her she'd won the star prize, we began having grand delusions of a lovely Wii machine nestled in our living room. But still, a three-day break for four (in 'Silver' grade accommodation no less) is absolutely not to be sniffed at. The last time I was at a Butlins was in Skegness in 2002 with Rachel, her brothers and friends. It was brilliant and mainly involved cricket on the beach, funfair rides and playing drinking games which consequently resulted in getting the then 14-year old Rachel and Abi drunk on cider, and Rach calling her mum 'old and rotting' when sent to bed at midnight on the last night. The youth of yesteryear eh?!

So Butlins. We get back on the Monday and on the Tuesday I'm flying to Munich for four days of Oktoberfest with my brother and several of his friends and Jenn, Katy and Reeta are coming along for the craic (I did say I wanted to spend this year going on a lot of holidays since I can't be arsed to do anything proper with my life just yet).

I've been on three dates with the Policeman now, the latest one being last night, which involved me taking him to see Bridesmaids (ahaha) and then going for pizza (and finding Eddie Izzard outside after)! The Policeman is very nice (AND 6 FOOT 4, YESSSS) but obviously in typical Sarah style my head's already full of doubts, like, do I really like him or just the fact that he owns a pair of handcuffs? Have I really got being single out of my system yet? (I have SUCH a roving eye.) He seems to really like me so there must be something wrong with him surely?

But then on the other hand why did I let myself dangle on the precipice of falling in love with someone (Tbay) who I wouldn't be able to have because he's leaving? I don't understand the way my head works. But anyway, I'm going to shut the fuck up and watch some Ally McBeal in bed. At least her love life's usually more shambolic than mine.

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