Shocker.

The temping agency did not, as it turned out, get me any work this week. I sat there all day on Monday, becoming steadily crosser and more stampy, but to no avail. On Tuesday I hung around again, but forced myself to assume that nothing would happen so was not too disappointed when I was right. I did other things and Kept Busy, and then went to the studio in Muswell Hill for a recording session until midnight. On Wednesday I had a rehearsal at a very, very fancy penthouse flat near Gloucester Road tube, for which I attired myself with attempted glamour but still managed to look considerably less cool than everyone else there. Who, of course, looked like they hadn't tried in the least.

This weekend I have a ladyfriend coming to stay: Miss Lily Dumont, star of burlesque stages around the country! We have decided that we are going to write some kind of comedy together. When we hang out together we don't stop laughing, so we reasoned that it is only fair that we share the love with the rest of the world. Bring light and sunshine to this dreary world by means of a few dirty jokes and some tasteful nudity. We reckon that the actual writing process will take us about half an hour (give or take), which will leave the rest of the weekend to drink tea and look at porn. Hurray!

Next Thursday I will be making my way down to Waterloo Station to board the swooshy Eurostar, which will swoosh me swishily over to Paris. As I arrive at the Gare du Nord I shall run into the open arms of my Impish Little Sister Sophie, who will be wearing a striped t-shirt, a beret and a string of garlic around her neck. I, in turn, will be sporting a shaved head, sunburn and a Man U t-shirt, and possibly clutching a can of warm Stella Artois. We will walk delightedly around Paris for a bit, and then I will go and look at her new flat, we will do Parisian things and try not to talk about boys. We will soon be joined by Alex Sister, and then by numerous boys, none of whom are my sisters, but all of whom I like enormously. I am looking forward to it all immensely. There is a David Lynch exhibition in Paris as well, which I am hoping to be able to get to, but only if we can fit it into our busy schedule of sitting around in cafés drinking espresso and absthine and gesticulating wildly. Last time I went to visit Sophie in Paris I was suffering from some kind of post-traumatic horridness after having been held hostage in that flat in Hackney (ah, good times) so I definitely didn't enjoy it as much as I could have done. This time, though, I am happy and carefree. My hair could do with a cut and my fingernails are an unsightly shade of pink, but apart from that my life is moving steadily towards the nice, so I am ready to embrace even the French.

Today I have to continue my search for Money (I am starting down the back of the sofa cushions). Also I have some singing stuff I need to work on, and I have to prepare the paper, pencils and porn for Lily's arrival tomorrow. I was considering going swimming, but it really is very cold and I hear that swimming gets you all wet* so I might change my mind about that.

*I wonder what sort of Google hits this post will generate? Some good ones, I suspect.

Now I shall go and make myself some coffee and practise my Parisian-style nonchalant shrug in preparation for next weekend.