And she can't complain
17.09.06, 10:12 pm

Dear diary,

There�s a boy that I really fancy, and I hope that he fancies me too. He gives me shivers, and when he smiles I get butterflies. Please say that he likes me.

Just got back from the second date with James the Scot. His accent is the sexiest damn thing in the world. We met for coffee by the Peace Gardens � crazy mad Santa race was going on, apparently for the British Heart Foundation � and sat around talking for a couple of hours, before sloping off to get some lunch at Ruskins. Halfway through our huge cheeseburgers I decided to utter the stupidest sentence ever: �Oh, I love eating.� Followed by, �Eating and talking, they�re my two most favourite things.� I honestly do myself no favours.

After that we wandered through the Winter Gardens, and I suddenly had the fantastic idea of us going on the big wheel that�s currently parked by City Hall, completely forgetting my height phobia. This emerged towards the top of the wheel where I looked down, my brain went OH SHIT and I suddenly realised I was very scared. Managed the ride without a hysterical freak-out, thank God. Finally we went for a drink in a nearby pub and I dropped the big ME bombshell, which seemed to go down okay.

Going over to his on Tuesday night for some tea. Very much looking forward to it.

Very much not looking forward to the hideous Christmas activities at work this week. Tuesday I have to go to a �technicians and secretaries Christmas quiz�. A whole afternoon with the grumpy rude secretaries who hate anyone and everyone, and don�t give two shits that your mail�s going to the wrong floor and that you haven�t had a payslip since October. Wednesday is the big work social with Secret Santa unveiling and general alcohol-fuelled awfulness. I shall be slinking off around half four, with or without the ME�s assistance.

Lisa�s now gone home, and I am consequently all alone chez Sheffield. To be honest, it is nice bumming around and putting the heating on whenever I feel like it. I finally, finally finished my Christmas cards yesterday, a mere week since originally starting them, and posted them off. Sitting writing Christmas cards always seems like a funner activity than it actually is.

Feel a bit hypocritical writing this upbeat entry when tonight I�m feeling so miserable I can�t even put it into words. Total nightmare hormones are probably partly responsible for me crying two nights in a row, but still. Thought about ringing someone, but having a total breakdown down the phone seems poor payment for the other person. Ah well, happy events are always more enjoyable for people to read about.

last - next