11.05.05..3:35 pm

I�m bored fucking stiff.

The first thing I did this morning was to call up my bank and transfer 130 overdue �s into the Thames Water account. I realised this afternoon ordering tickets to see The Philadelphia Story (a belated gift for my Dad when he and the fam pop over at the end of the month) that I should have stuck that �130 on my credit card. I always forget. Which is probably why I�ve got such a disastrous balance.

I�m listening to a documentary on women in indie music, or rather the lack of and the prejudices women in indie music face. It�s really interesting. But I ought to be doing work.

I�ve been looking up work experience placements with the BBC instead. And gossiping about a wedding dress with the girl who�s going to wear it in 10months time. I really ought to be doing work.

i'm feeling sick AGAIN. everyday a couple of hours after lunch i feel a bit nauseous. i thought it was because i was having too much acidic foods, but i didn't today. so that can't be it.

I wore a cocktail dress and a couple of cardies to work yesterday because I�ve got no other clean clothing in M�s flat. Today I�m wearing my usual green and black combo. I think the Kelly green Chuck Taylors complete the look.

I never used to understand why they were called Chuck Taylor�s in America, as opposed to Converse or All-Stars like in Canada until I learned it was in respect for Chuck Taylor, �the basket ball player turned shoe salesman. He has four shoes with his name on them.

Now I�m listening to a documentary on the Killers. I think I�m going to try to make it through the rest of the BBC radio docs by the end of today.

I walked into the toilets this morning � no coffee, no breakfast, just cycled 20min � stepped into a stall and was utterly baffled by the presence of a plastic milk carton. It was there this afternoon too. I checked to see if it had emptied a little and I think it had. Which means that either someone really doesn�t want to offend anyone by drinking milk in the office, or has a serious problem. Lactose Fetish. It�s a harsh reality.