What a way to make a living...

See? See? Misery gradually abates.

I have, this week, alternated between being genuinely, ridiculously happy and being in a black depression. It was left to Kirstin, this lunchtime, to rouse me with her wild gesticulations and wonderful thought processes which, luckily, are exactly the same as mine. I just didn't quite know how to say it, until she did.

And Ben wants to drop Maths.

"I don't really think," said Kirstin, "that's a good idea. You can't drop something every time you can't do the homework."

Although this was wise, it was quite difficult to take seriously, as at the exact same moment she began singing an irish, musical theatre version of Oedipus.

"Um." I said, staring bewilderedly at her as she flamboyantly stabbed herself in the eye with an imaginary pin. "That's quite a good point."

That's not to say we give anything like good advice, of course. Our time now is taken up almost entirely with obscure homework (both of us), Dragons' Den (me) and making weasel gestures (Kirstin, naturally). Veering deangerously form the point, I'd just like to say how much I love the aforementioned BBC work of genius. There's nothing more watchable on TV at the moment, other than Grey's Anatomy. Though I'm thinking of boycotting the latter; I just can't watch Meredith and Derek looking longingly at each other and NOT KISSING. Which they should.

Ugh. This wekend I have tons of homework and actual work, which leaves absolutely no time for dossing about the house in pyjamas, listening to Jeff Buckley at snapping at my brother. He's a good kid, bless him.

Unlike some others, who shall remain nameless...

The welts of your scorn, my love, give me more

Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more