Still feel like poo

Not as bad, but still ill (hence the non-blogging these past few days). Enjoyed the writing workshop we had on Friday, with Tim Pears – an old mate of Jane's (they went to film school together) now on his third published novel – said that this last one took 5 years to write which is kind of depressing! A relief to be doing something a little bit more spontaneous and creative though, as opposed to all the 'professional' writing we're having to churn out in the rest of the course. Can't say that my juices were a-flowing exactly (although the snot certainly was) but definitely worth attending.

Arrived back home at six to total bedlam and chaos. Both Lucy and Billy had friends around and together they'd trashed the place completely – pillow fighting had left all the rooms like bomb sites, the kitchen was a no-go area, everywhere a total mess. Less than impressed, after yelling at them to tidy up I foolishly decided to tackle the dishes and the backlog of laundry, sorted the tent that had been hanging up to dry/air ever since Ed's Portugal expedition, scrabbled around in the attic, and then cooked dinner instead of resting – like the doctor would have ordered. Had a phonecall from Hilary in the midst of all this activity, who was very sweetly checking up that I was ok, which the kids somehow thought gave them license to run riot again?! At the point where Lucy ended up in tears, I had to cut short the conversation, and went absolutely ballistic at the boys (Billy in particular, so I'm sure his mate thought I was the evil-bitch-mother-from-hell). So hate losing my rag like that – especially with a painfully raw sore throat!

Later, various beautiful young girls began to traipse in, congregating in Rosie's little box room, to communally get ready for a Friday night on the town. Straightening and curling their hair in turn; trying on outfits, swapping bits, and trying them on again; expertly applying fabulous make-up whilst knocking back glasses of warm, cheap rose wine. The plan was to start at Witherspoons, move onto the Sportscue, and finish up at Club 2K (just for a change). Small wonder these youngsters are keen to head off into the big wide world as soon as possible, as they've seen and done it all already. I know I'd be bored of the same limited few options if I was as dedicated a party animal as they are!

Fretted over what to wear for the Bosun's gig, and took ages to get ready, but arrived at the designated 9.30pm sound check time. Hung around, as usual, while everything was still being set up (bless Robyn, our amazing sound engineer, all-round good guy). Chatted to The Eyelids girlies, all ridiculously young and clothed in uniform black. The lead singer the cute one, with a drop-dead sexy Italian accent to boot. The actual sound check took all of 5mins, so me and Chloe, both feeling like ratshit, took ourselves off to the warmer environs of the Dock for some medicinal brandy.

Got stuck in a conversation with a guy at the bar that dragged on forever, when I was desperate to sit with me mates. The fatal mistake was mentioning that I write, because of course, he was a writer too. And a talker. Eventually, was able to make my excuses and take a much needed seat, (was feeling pretty achey and shaky by this point), chatting to various people, and trying not to feel overly nervous. Went back over the road to a still, incredibly empty Bosuns, to watch the punk girls do their thang. Not bad – good musicians, original material – I'm sure they'll go far (a lot further than us anyway).

A few more people in the building by the time we started playing, but a thin crowd compared to last year's throng. First song, wasn't too bad, leaped about and was fairly energetic, but it all went down hill after that. Had no strength or energy whatsoever – was really struggling to get through it. Thought it was a totally shit gig, but apparently, according to the others, it wasn't that bad. I'd put Eddie's name on the guest list as he said he might come down after he'd finished at the Acorn, but he decided to 2K it with his pals instead (don't blame him really). Beth, however, did come down, and I imagine her name was on the guest list courtesy of Graham. We exchanged 'hellos' but didn't have much of a chance to chat. Always feel so goddamn awkward when G's in the vicinity – still can't work out what/if anything's happening there. Should bite the bullet and just ask – put myself out of the 'not-knowing' misery.

Anyway, I didn't hang around afterwards, and she'd already left before then. Not exactly rock and roll, walking home in the drizzle, carrying a percussion case and your violin. And to think last year I was bestowed a fabulous bouquet of flowers on stage, was high on the energy of a fantastic gig, had redeemed my position as singer in the band, and foolishly, foolishly ended up back in bed with the fickle G after seven months apart. The beginning of my downfall, again.

No, this time, it was home alone, at 4am, to a bed full of 11 yr-old boys. Made myself a cup of tea, and was just thinking which of the spare beds I should go sleep in, when the party girls came in, followed by an extremely mashed Eddie. Had to procure various cushions, mattresses, sleeping bags etc. to bed them all down for the night, before finally crawling in to join Billy and his mate. Great.

Not quite the after-gig threesome I had in mind.

Saturday then was a bit of a strange one. The girls were up and out the door at 10am for a breakfast date at Witherspoons, the boys turned on the telly to watch crap kids' TV, Eddie carried on sleeping, and Lucy was still at Rowan's house ,having stayed there the night before. Pottered for a few hours doing the usual householdy kind of stuff. Attempted to do some computer work, but I was a complete airhead, and it just wasn't happening – with all I managed to do, being the beginnings of this particular blog entry. Abandoned ship to cycle over to the Love Lane Meadow, and plant some trees as part of Daisy's project. So nice to be out in the fresh air for a change, doing something physical. All this indoor study stuff just cannot be good for me! And not that I'm spiritual, or hippy-ish or anything, but it really did feel soul-nourishing placing those baby trees in the earth. It's an overgrown brambly field at the moment, but you can certainly see the future potential. Love the little willow grove they've planted up. Sat by the fire, drinking tea and eating Daisy's scrumptious flapjacks, listening to the birdsong, in the sunshine...perfect.

To counteract the extreme lack of exercise in my life right now, went for a swim in the slot before the kids do their nippers. Also needed to wash my hair. Can definitely feel the fitness ebbing away, although to be fair, I'm still not well (I wonder why? It's already 1.30am and I'm still sat here typing away like some sort of obsessive, instead of going to bed like any normal person would)!

In fact I will go to bed now – sod the blog. My throat's killing me, I desperately need some water and some shut-eye, so off I trot.