Rough city.

Oh my God, I'm fragile.

I made the mistake of drinking Pimms, which to me just tastes like fruit juice and therefore I always end up far more under the influence than originally anticipated. Other than having my head stuck in the toilet for the best part of the morning, I had a very jolly night! I rarely venture out into town when I come home as the ratio of clubs is positively minus, but many familiar faces surrounded me and so I will gladly take the hangover and suffer for it. I think the favourite part of my night was when me and my two sexy lady friends spotted this man who looked like the babe on the picture. He looked stereotypically German, minus the fancy dress, and we decided to call him Hans and ran after him for an autograph. It turns out that he was actually Polish, and he positively FLED, and I mean ran, away from us, more than likely in fear for his life. Oh well, nothing like a good old rejection from a beautiful (...) stranger.

I crashed at Emma's last night to avoid being ripped off in a taxi home (£15 for a 10 minute journey?? No thanks), and I had to ring my grandmother to come and collect me at like 9am as I genuinely thought I was on my deathbed, and when I looked in the mirror I realised I looked worse than I felt. Still, it was nothing a few more trips to vom city, a good sleep, home cooking and Matilda couldn't cure, and by 12pm I felt relatively right as rein.

On the subject of Matilda though, I actually wonder how many hours I have spent in the duration of my lifetime watching it. No word of a lie, I can recite the script, and I have been known to watch it four times in one day... It has this cathartic, soothing effect on me which is just irresistable! And whereas a cup of tea solves everything for the rest of the world, I genuinely think my agony aunt, doctor and general comforter is Matilda. I wish I had her powers. I mean, how amazing would it be to be able to pour your cereal with your eyes?? I suppose I am a little obsessed with the film though. Maybe I am living my life by Matilda. Maybe that's why I chose to do English and am obsessed with chocolate gateau. Maybe innately I really want to be forced to eat a monstrous cake made by a sweaty, dribbly old woman... Oh God, I'm a real-life Bruce Bogtrotter...

Roald Dahl was always one of my favourite authors as a child, and his films still hold a special place in my heart, especially Matilda (obv) and the BFG. George's Marvellous Medicine was one of my all time fave's, and The Twits follows shortly behind. The allure of Mr Twit with his foody-beard was captivating to me. Maybe I should just shack up with a tramp and I could experience it for real. Or not. Maybe I'll just force the boy to grow a full-on Hans-style beard. Hmm...