Brought to you live from Beijing
12.08.08, 5:53 pm

Have just realised that the black shirt I have been wearing today makes me look like Mombi out of Return To Oz:

God, I am absolutely obsessed with the Olympics. I watched 6 hours of it on Sunday, before James finally forced me out of the house to watch the new Batman film, and have spent most of yesterday and today at work following it online. And it�s now on in the background as I type this. It was incredibly embarrassing at work this morning: I was sat in front of my computer with my earphones in, singing along very loudly to Frank Sinatra � I�ve Got You Under My Skin whilst streaming swimming highlights from the BBC website, and who should come crashing into the lab unawares but Big Boss. Thankfully I don�t think he noticed my screen, because exciting as the badminton was this afternoon (my GOD, I nearly gave myself a HERNIA with anxiety) I doubt it would have been a good enough excuse.

God only knows what I�m going to do with myself once the Olympics are over, but at the moment my working day is spent throwing comments over my shoulder to Katie as we both obsessively press refresh on our respective live update pages (me: Guardian; her: BBC Sport). We�re getting incredibly geeky about it all � we�re actually quite embarrassing at coffee when we sit reeling off obscure results to bemused normal people who don�t give two shits about the 100m backstroke heat 7.

Sorry things have been a bit gloomy here recently. Life just appears to be going through an annoying low patch, to the point where I get pessimistic about relatively good and stable things in my life, i.e. James. I think I�m essentially very sick of him being in London, and this is compounded by the fact that I�ve just discovered he�s not back until the end of September, i.e. October. Which is pretty damn wanky. It makes me resentful because I miss out on seeing my friends as much as I want to, because everyone is working and it�s not like being a student again. Oh well. Not forever.

My gran was flying on Thursday evening when I went to visit her with Indie. Still clearly bobbing along nicely on morphine, she wasted no time in telling me off for a variety of minor faults, i.e. my hair, my lack of makeup, my inability to dance. Indie has been commanded to take me dancing with her at some point so that I can learn to dance at least one step. Somebody needs to tell me gran that I�m not getting married in the next fortnight. Apparently she freaked the whole ward out Wednesday night by hallucinating that there was a load of strange men in the ward unloading stolen goods from the back of a van. I bet the nurses were sooo glad to finally get rid of her. Anyway, they booted her out Friday, and I went down to see her on Saturday and she seems to be doing okay, albeit with zero after-care advice. Good old NHS. I then met Indie in town, who bought me a hot chocolate, because she�s nice.

Interviews for the two new job slots in the lab are taking place next Thursday. We�ve apparently had 60 (SIX-FRICKIN�-TY) applications, including one from an osteo-archeologist. Why the hell they would want to work in our lab is beyond me. Anyway, my interview is first thing on Thursday, as I�m knobbing off to Dumfries for the Bank Holiday weekend almost immediately afterwards. It�s going to be the most retarded interview ever as I a) know all the interviewers and b) already work there. Despite all this, I�ve made myself buy a brand new interview outfit, as I have decided that I can�t wear the same outfit for both interviews. The fact that nobody will even vaguely remember what I wore TWO YEARS AGO seems to have slipped my mind.

Right, going to finish watching the men�s gymnastics now. It�s reminding me that me, Em and Michelle decided two years ago that we would go to 2012 to watch the gymnastics, and that I will be 27 years old then. Too old.

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