A List: Because OCD Is Fun!

I have some things to say, and I have numbered them for no reason whatsoever.

1. I am, despite all my big talk about ponies, a bit scared of horses. I have ridden them lots of times but always feel nervous when I'm on one. I was last on a horse in New Zealand. I felt more comfortable on an elephant.

2. I respond to being tired or hungry by feeling depressed and angry. This morning I was tired, and I tried to whack Tom on the shoulder, but accidentally got the strap of his rucksack. I now have two scraped knuckles on my left hand. Some might think that would teach me to be violent. I think it will teach me not to try and hit someone with my left hand, as I clearly aim better with my right.

3. Someone the other day told me I looked like Kate Beckinsale. This is not the case, although I do have brown hair so I can see where they started to get confused.

4. My diet has gone alrightish. Well, I haven't really changed much, because I eat well anyway. Nor have I denied myself the odd small treat. For example, I had a chocolate brownie on Sunday, but nothing like that since. I think that the weight I am is probably my natural and healthy state of being, although if I went to the gym I would be muscular and stuff. 'Toned', maybe. To be honest, body building has never much appealed to me, although if the singing doesn't work out I might just give it a crack.

5. I have just agreed to do the Run London thing (www.runlondon.com). Which is 10km, in October. I think it's meant to be some kind of North London vs South London thing, where we all get competitive. I will represent the South, of course. It seems that all the other people I'll be running with will be representing the North. I am planning to be extra-competitive with Sarah. I will taunt her by calling her a Northern Monkey, and with any luck she will retort by calling me a Southern Fairy, and we will have lots of fun. I will not tell her that secretly I would much rather live in Camden than in Clapham, and she will not tell me that she is secretly in love with me and stalks me on Tuesday nights.

6. It's the music video thing tonight! (Exclamation mark denoting excitement, possibly bordering on glee.) I spoke to the stylist last night (please take note: when I use the word 'stylist' I am being nonchalant and cool, also when I use the words 'shoot', 'shooting', 'filming' and 'shoes') and he said he has many things for me, and I am to try them all on, and then someone will do my hair and make up. I will have fabulous shoes, and we will shoot on Gerrard Street in Soho. Just in case anyone fancies popping down to see me trying not to look too excited/touch anything/breathe out. We are shooting from seven until approximately midnight.
I had a meeting with my producer last night (unrelated to the video thing), which went on quite late, and then met Tom for last orders in the pub round the corner from my house. We managed to drink a bottle of wine in that time, which is fine work, I think. I anticipate tiredness to the extreme tomorrow (cue lots of coffee and some light to middling violence towards colleagues.)

7. My flat backs onto a railway line. With noisy trains on it. The Eurostar goes right past my window, as do many other varieties of train. So far nobody has bothered to look into my window, which is a shame for them because I often walk around my room topless, and sometimes completely clothesless.
Anyway. Last night at about three in the morning, a very, very loud machine took it upon itself to start to clean the train tracks. One by one. It would clean one, move to the next one, clean that, move to the next one and so on. Each track took about ten painstaking seconds to clean. The noise that this machine (which is now my sworn nemesis) made upon cleaning each track was loud enough to make Tom and I both sit up with our hands clamped over our ears and look at each other in the way that people reserve for when they've been woken from a deep sleep by a very loud and confusing noise (Tom likes to use it when I dry my hair in the mornings). When we worked out what it was we just lay there, eyes squeezed shut, emanating hatred for the machine of death from every pore. It went on for ages and ages. Time stopped and was replaced by the sound of a thousand cows trying to hit a top C whilst having their legs chopped off by a five year old with a hacksaw.
This machine has made me tired. If I have dark circles under my eyes for the music video, or if I go on a killing spree from lack of sleep, I will sue the machine. I will sue it, and I will win.

8. I have a slightly sore shoulder. I'm not sure why, so I am blaming the machine.

9. It is Thursday today, and as we have all agreed that a Thursday is infinitely preferable to a Tuesday, I think we should all have treats in celebration. Mine will be some water, because I must not have anything that might make me pop out of my dress in a manner that I reserve only for the people on the 7.48 from Clapham Junction. I am scared that the fifteen hundred pound dress will not fit me, even though I gave him my measurements. When I handed him the bit of paper he looked at it with fear in his eyes, because I imagine that they don't make many couture dresses in 38, 28, 37. With a size five shoe and a penchant for the sparkly. Oh well, it isn't my problem, they must find something for me, I am simply the unfortunately busty mannequin.

10. Ten. What a nice number to end a post on. Let's all have treats.