A Curious Girl: Oh the weather outside is frightful

It snowed today. Yay! Clive told me and I did the little kid act, screaming every time someone so much as mentioned the 's' word, even when coupled with 'is causing delays'

I went to a pantomime yesterday, with Sally, her mum Helen and godmother Carol, to whom Sally insisted on referring to as 'my godmother'. It was all right on the way up, and the panto (Mother Goose) in Hackney Empire was excellent.

"They've probably taken her somewhere dark, desolate and deserted."

"The Millenium Dome?"

Snigger. It got a bit tiresome afterwards, as I was ready to sleep, and Helen wanted to go to the pub. The Samuel Pepys, it was called - I ask you! Samuel Pepys was surely Chathamese (pronounced Cha'umaeze)! After that, it was coffee in Victoria, and then instead of going straight home, like I'd hoped, Helen didn't lend me her mobile to call Mum on the train, instead expecting me to come back with her and Sally to have a birthday drink or something. So we drank cherry brandy, and I really was tired, eventually noticing that it was twenty to ten and I had to get home. I finally managed to make sufficient hints to borrow her mobile, and then went home. Sally's constant 'It's my birthday" began to get on my nerves after a while. The smoking did too. Anyone who smokes should skip the next paragraph.

I hate cigarettes. They stink, cause damage and smokers always insist on dropping the butt ends on the ground to put them out. And they do this in public places, where it is surely most disgusting. I mean, in a pub where there are ashtrays, or in their own home I can cope with it. But insisting on lighting up in a station or a street really gets me, especially when like Sally they claim that they are blowing the smoke the other way. Crap. Dropping the butt ends most annoys me, especially when they don't bother to put them out properly. At my primary school, after every school fair we had to put up with another few weeks of playing on top of cigarette ends and other litter. Horrible.

Oh well. Before I divert into other Richard E Grant related matter, I'd like to say that I discovered the name for what Percy was symbolising in that dream I had - animus.

So I watched A Christmas Carol at last today. It was very sweet - nearly cried when Belle left him, as the old Scrooge (Patrick Stewert) keeps saying, "Go to her, go after her!" and the young Scrooge obviously doesn't hear him. And the scruffy Vicar of Dibley bloke was Old Joe - that made me laugh. I much preferred the Joe in the Muppet version, even if he was a spider. Bob Cratchit (Richard E Grant) really surprised me though. I never knew how much a Cockney accent could suit him. The weird thing is, in the book Bob is described as 'little', and in The Scarlet Pimpernel Percy is described as very tall. It must take a good actor to play such a stuck-up (albeit very sexy) fop (sorry about that, I mean very witty, of course) and the down-trodden clerk with wife and kids galore. Another strange point of contrast is Percy's reaction to Marguerite's death and Bob's to Tiny Tim's. Completely different. But I'll stop now, I'm probably boring you. Much as I'd like to be a reviewer in The Telegraph I am not, or anywhere similar, so it's best I leave this subject.

Nicola has handed in her notice! Good for you Nicola :-)

I really do not have much more to say, but I feel like quoting, so here is the song which pretty much describes me (at least when I don't have loads of Christmas money), except for one line (guess which one!)

I'm broke but I'm happy, I'm poor but I'm kind,
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah.
I'm high but I'm grounded, I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed,
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby.

And what it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine, fine, fine,
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five.

I feel drunk but I'm sober, I'm young and I'm underpaid,
I'm tired but I'm working, yeah.
I care but I'm restless, I'm here but I'm really gone,
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby.

And what it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite all right,
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette.

And what it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all firgured out just yet.
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket,
and the other one is giving a peace sign.

I'm free but I'm focused, I'm green but I'm wise
I'm hard but I'm friendly baby.
I'm sad but I'm laughing, I'm brave but I'm chicken shit,
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby.

And what it all boils down to
Is that no-one's got it figured out just yet.
But I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other is playing a piano.

And what it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything is just fine, fine, fine,
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
and the other one is hailing a taxi cab.

Did you guess which line most definitely does not apply to me? Not hard, was it!

Random word for today:

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