Seventh entry.

A brief list of things I hate.

Olives.

Novelty cufflinks.

Small dogs in clothes.

‘Princess on board’ car signs.

Malnourished cats lurking in alleyways in foreign countries.

Non-touch hand soap dispensers.

Morbid holiday reading; the sheer volume of child abuse novels found in the hotel book exchange. Examples: Please, Daddy, No; Daddy’s Little Earner; Sickened: The Memoir of a Munchausen by Proxy Childhood.

Slow walkers.

The lone sock lurking in my wash basket, pining for its partner.

Making any form of decision.

Novelty/comedy/ironic geek-chic, non-prescription glasses.

Extreme informal contraction; combining two words that don’t quite mean the same thing, eg: guesstimate.

People who use impossible percentages; 2000%; 1000001% etc.

Cars emblazoned with Christian fish symbols.

Natalie Cassidy.

Sixth entry.

So here we are; university is over forever and I’ve been free of coursework for two whole weeks. What to do now is a measure I’ve considered carefully, culminating in slipping gently into an emotional coma.

After piecing together the fragmented remains of my mental wellbeing, I have realised this is a time for celebration, rather than fear.

I can now spend time focusing upon measures for self-improvement; taking up trapeze lessons, moving my clothes from the floor back into the wardrobe, performing pelvic floor exercises and such like.

For many of you, ontheblog has probably become gospel and I can only offer my sincere apologies for those who have lacked sleep or contemplated suicide since its demise. You may also notice that my last promise to you was to explain the work placement process.

This is obviously old news by now, but I can say that I went to The Independent on Sunday in London and have now returned a better person than most, after discovering my inner big-city twat.

Incidentally, I have a real life job interview back in London soon. Exciting as it may be, living on one’s own in a new city is a daunting prospect. I’m happy to spend some of my time curled up with a Mills and Boon novel or two, but what would happen were I to remain eternally friendless?

I’m fearful I could die alone, having a fall on a floor slippery with knitting needles and cat urine, or choking to death after forgetting to remove the film lid from my microwave meal for one.

But this is all unnecessary speculation. For now, I shall take things one step at a time, devising a life strategy and compiling lists of things I must/want/have yet to do. Carpe diem.