Form-filling frenzy

Yes, well that whole car episode was completely freaky. It's parked around the corner for now, but I'll need to empty all the crap out of it before storing it up at G's. Can't believe that I've orchestrated having yet another car of mine stuck out at his place? No sooner do I remove all connections with him, then I go and make myself beholden to his good will again – so what is all that about? And it's a load of extra stress I could certainly do without right now. Something else to arrange and sort out.

By the time I'd done the car shuffling, and spent an hour or so being domestic, I realised I was going to be late for the 'girlie night out' at the Studio Bar. Made myself even later by foolishly dithering over what to wear – as if it mattered? Nearly as bad as Rosie I was; rifling through her drawers, trying on all her skirts and nice tops, pulling faces at myself in the mirror because I looked stupid/fat/like mutton. Finally managed to get out the door, but was far from in the party mood.

The band playing, Mr Clean, were fab. I knew two of the four already, but was surprised when the guitarist came up to me afterwards to introduce himself as Judy H's (from the course) partner! Must make a point to see them again, hopefully at a venue with room to dance, as they were brilliant. Apart from the lack of dance floor though, its a wicked little place. Great to have live music for free, really nice atmosphere, and loads of people there I know to talk to – the kind of place I'd quite happily pop into on my own, sure of being able to find some company.

Almost too many people, as didn't have time to chat to everyone. Was momentarily embarrassed by a woman who said she recognised me as the person who cleared the dance floor at Frank and Cazz's wedding after farting loudly, and smellily. Up until then, I'd been completely oblivious to that little faux pas (thanks to alcohol-induced, short-term memory loss) but now I'll have to remember it for all time. Thanks Nadine. I won't be forgetting that I've met you before, again now!

An ill-fated suggestion to adjourn to the Dock (missed last orders) was followed by a drink at the Globe(full of last chancers). A scary pub, with three massive tellies screening boxing, a DJ playing 'interesting' tunes to a pub-full of lary people. And the owner's the most enormous man ever, yet Wendy assures me he's lost loads of weight recently and, apparently, owns half of Penzance.

Lou was desperate to party on, insisting that we all go to the Barn Club, but thankfully we managed to persuade her to come back with everyone else to mine instead. Fortunately, I had a bottle of Tequila stashed in the electric cupboard (left over from last summer) as well as wine, and several beers – even a bag of Sensations crisps. It's been ages since I've hostessed at my place after a night out, and I really enjoyed doing so. Even played a bit of me jazz singing with Funny Feathers so must've been feeling comfortable and happy. Wendy shared my bed, and the pair of us stayed up talking bollocks until nearly 5 o'clock in the morning – it's those intimate moments I miss more than the sex, I think, post-Graham.

Sunday kicked off to a slow start. Several cups of tea, and plenty more girl-talk, before Wendy headed back home. We'd arranged top meet up with Lou again later, as she had an oak tree, given as a present to her toddler, that she needed to plant up. Thought I might've been able to make a start on writing up the hair article in the interim, but got side-tracked pottering. Before I knew it, the girls were there to pick me up, and we drove over to friends of Wendy's place near Nancledra. And what an amazing place it is! Sixteen and a half acres, loads of old trees, fields, a damn, old mine-workings, a fantastic house with loads of outbuildings, views to die for, and neighbours with sheep, pigs, geese etc.. A country idyll, and I was jealous as fuck! Not to mention miserable. Couldn't stop thinking about the loss of my rural future up at Ladydowns, now that I'm out of the picture as far as Graham's concerned. Ok, so living up there now was always going to be impossible, but in a few years time... no use torturing myself. Move on. Think of all the other futures that may open up for me now instead. Keep thinking.

At home afterwards, I was in a very subdued mood, not keen on tackling the feature writing h/work, but knew that it had to be done. Which I did – ahead of the actual deadline by a whole twelve hours. Miracle! Still didn't have the early night I was hoping for though, and am a little bit concerned that Hilary may be right – that if I keep pushing myself, don't get enough sleep, I'll end up with ME.

Raining again this morning. Had an appointment with the solicitors to see about making a will – my first one ever. Felt really weird talking about arrangements 'in the event of my death' as I hardly think it'll be an 'event'? Not a great deal to divvy up – it'll just be a 4-way split. Can't think of anything off-hand that I'd like to bequeath to any of them individually? But I do need to consider who I'm going to appoint as the executor, and who as a guardian before it can be drawn up and signed. Seems as if it'll be a dead cert that custody of the kids will automatically go to Terry. Would have to go through the courts in order to enforce an alternative, but fingers crossed, I'll be around long enough to make that likelihood, unlikely!

The remainder of the day was spent filling in bloody forms, and writing letters – long overdue, quite pressing, and important paperwork. Income support want all my bank statements, and proof of what we lived off, during the seven months I wasn't in receipt of any benefit. Right bloody pain. Then there was the housing benefit discretionary payment form, and forms for Learning support funds for me, Rosie and Eddie. Had to deliver paperwork to the Job Centre and Housing Benefit in person, and also made a phone call to the Housing Register Dept to follow up current waiting list status. Gutted to discover we are no longer number one on the list, now number two. Fan-fuckingtastic. Been waiting 5 years on this particular list now, and when the next property does come up, we won't even be considered for it. I appreciate that someone else is clearly in dire circumstances to have queue-jumped so successfully, but it's still a bit harsh! The woman said that it was probably someone escaping domestic violence, so think I may have to write them a letter stating that that's more or less how we ended up in this under-sized property in the first place. Five years of sleeping in the lounge on March 1^st. Hell. What a depressing kind of a day it's been then.

In a bid to maybe eke out something positive, I emailed the editor of Vitality Matters to ask if they'd let me approach Ultralase (corrective eye surgery) with a proposal for freebie treatment in exchange for writing a feature article about what they do. Doesn't benefit the magazine though, and probably not good enough advertising value for Ultralase, so not holding my breath – a real long shot, but sometimes you just have to give these things a try!

Eddie's snoring away above me after having spent a long, wet day in the fields – out again tomorrow at the crack of dawn. Rosie's got a gaggle of (loud) teenage boys with her downstairs, debating or arguing – hard to tell. But I'm going to have to poop their party, as I need to go to hit the hay, ready for another fun-filled day at the Tremough office tomorrow.