07.11.05..10:07 am

One week ago, if you were to be passing my bedroom door around this hour you very likely could have heard the following:

"Honey, I can't focus. This isn't working."

"Are you ok? Is it the state of my head?"

"No. I think I'm going to be sick and I don't want to vomit in your hair."

"That might help you know."

[At this point your stealthlike appearance in my home would have been discovered as my Dearheart stumbles past you to vomit in my study as he had only really just got to bed after a very long night on the piss and I, very cruelly, forced him into poking my head with a comb for an hour before throwing up again and going to work.]

Fortunately that was then, this is now (�This is Stouffers�)(Is it wrong I involuntarily think that every time someone inserts a �that was then, this is now� tagline into a conversation?) For now I am a nit free lassie! Huzzah! And thank the Good People at the Neem Seed factory!

I�ve been officially parasite free for four days and counting! All congratulation cards and celebratory missives can be sent to me right here at meepful! It got a bit desperate last week. I�d used the shampoo everyday for four days as instructed by the box (hee hee) and had started seriously wondering if They hadn�t snuck a few eggs in the shampoo. They just kept multiplying. One day I really thought I�d nailed them only for Matthew to find another bunch of eggs incubating in my fringe within seconds of looking.. I know lice are completely indiscriminating, but it's a tad embarrassing to be 25, childless and STILL wind up infested with these creepy little fuckers that Would Not Die.

It was quite funny though when I casually mentioned to Issy (The Mum) that her darling youngest had given me a gift I would rather not been given. She was thoroughly mortified. She kept apologising and glancing hopefully at her checkbook as though that would cure it (though it would have helped a little..) In any case, the findings began dwindling last Wednesday when Matthew found only seven, by Thursday there was one. The Friday and Saturday searches yielded nothing but the confirmation I had not washed my hair WITH SOAP in over a week and for the Love of God could I please. Gladly.

So while the a whole circle of life Old Elton seemed to forget playing out on my scalp, the rest of my life last week and over the weekend seemed to be picking up for the better. Very productive meeting with Lizzie last week about the cookbook. At least in terms of figuring out the name and design desires. And establishing we both want to figure out how to make a decent eggless meringue. We�re going to hook up tomorrow night for another planning session and then next Sunday get together for some high-flying culinary rock �n roll.

The whole novel thing seems to be going pretty well, though I get nervous talking about it too much. Because if you say it�s name it will jinx you. There�s loads I�ve still got to get through, but you know when all of a sudden you can see where it is you might be going? Like turning a map so North is facing you to get a perspective on which roads lead to the right. That�s what happened this weekend. With any luck I�ll have 25 000 words done by Sunday coming. With a lot of luck, but you know. It�s not wholly outside the realm of possibility. More in the suburbs.

Got quite accidentally drunk Saturday night. I was in hangover denial for most of the morning, convinced it had only been three pintlets and wondering how the fuck I'd managed to wake up feeling like this after only three. (I later revealed to myself that it had really been five and gave myself a ten-point deduction for not remembering.) To attempt to make it up to my weary head, I threw together a breakfast of awesome heights. Half a pound of scrambled tofu with fresh basil, braised oyster mushroom and leek (which Matthew had picked up at the Dread Middle Class Farmers Market(tm) on Saturday), baked beans and rocket with two slices of toast, a pot of coffee and most of a carton of orange juice.

I was quite pleased with myself over that one actually. Somewhere the fog of my brain decided quite sensibly that attempting washing up in the condition my body was in wouldn�t be the best of plans and so I did it all in one pan. I scrambled first, and hefted it to one side and then looked at the rest of my wares as a tiny spark passed from left to right and suddenly it was all made clear. After that it was simply a case of braise-heft, heat-heft, add the rocket to steam (if they�re washed immediately beforehand, they won�t burn. Rather wilt delicately.) It took an hour to get it all down and I ended up going back to bed anyway after deciding a third slice of toast (this time with honey) was the way to go. I couldn�t bear the thought of having to lug the enormous heavy around. Delicious. I read for three hours, snuggled with my duvet. It was the first night I think I�ve spent on my ownsome since Matthew moved in; he�d had been doing Manly Things on Saturday, primarily comprising of playing poker and drinking whiskey til the sun came up.

After eating so much I couldn�t actually move for the next four hours, I eventually dumped myself in front of my laptop and noodled out a bit of work before being reminded that I was due to meet Leah for lunch. Bussed down to Brick Lane thoroughly convinced I would never eat again ever until I passed the Ethiopian stall in the food part of one of the smaller markets and nearly passed out from the scent. Coriander and chilli, chickpeas with pureed yam and carrot. Num! So we went there and feasted.

I walked all the way home as penance. Or, to make room for pizza. Which Matthew and I picked up for dinner.

****emmms, stuffed like a taxidermied dog