My head is completely wrecked today. Not down to a hangover, I think I'd be in a much better mood if it was. Yesterday I'd taken the day off work to drive up and spend the day with Annie and Mr T, and it more than lived up to my expectations. It was the most perfect and yet most heart wrenching day of my life. There's a bit of an oxymoron for you!

For the first time in probably years I had them to myself and we did all the stuff we used to. We had a slap up lunch, went out for coffee to an old haunt and bought the biggest cakes in the shop. Once Mr T and I had worked our magic we managed to get Annie to unwind and it felt like it did before all the cancer crap. They were both so upbeat by the end of the day. It was my mission to smile and laugh with them, and with a joint effort we more than succeeded.

In another way it was pure agony. When I first saw her, yet again there seemed a massive change. Her skin is beginning to yellow and it's a startling reminder of the terrifying way the cancer is eating away at her. Also when Mr T went to pick up lunch and more huge cakes we had a bit of a heart to heart.

I completely screwed up, I'm still so annoyed at myself. During this whole thing I've kept my own fears behind closed doors and been her sounding block. Unable to imagine all that she's feeling right now, I want to support her and help build her emotional strength when necessary. So far it's worked... Yesterday though my mask slipped for a minute and I am so angry about it. There she is facing up to the fact she's dying and I tell her that I'm worried about who I'll talk to after she's gone (this woman has always been my confidant. We talk about everything, no holds barred and being the rebel she is she gives killer advice). I still can't believe I was so shallow and selfish. Being her she didn't mind of course and told me I should still talk to her and she'll somehow show me the way. I quickly turned the conversation to a less self-centred tone by pointing out that that's all well and good, as long as she doesn't freak me out and appear in the mirror (my biggest fear since Candyman). She has a good sense of humour I hadn't lost all sense of boundaries.

After obsessing over my stupidity on a journey I remember absolutely nothing about, I went round to DJ's. I'd been invited but didn't think I'd go. We didn't talk about Annie or my day, I wasn't in the mood but I had a whiskey and fell asleep on his couch/him by mistake. When I woke up he'd put a cover over me and was sitting half asleep across the room. I never just crash out to this extent unless something's seriously bothering me but I suppose it's better than completely losing it. I had weirdly slept on the couch until 4am so he insisted I stay and I ended up in his bed with him, wearing a t-shirt to avoid too much inappropriateness. Nothing happened but in the morning when I woke up and he was running his fingers up and down my thigh I made a sharp exit. My head just felt screwed so decided to call in sick at work and grab some 'me time' before I have to face the music i.e. Jazz.

Hey, it's Friday, give me a drink and I have a feeling I'll be quite alright!

Late last night I received a phone call from an old school friend, Mannie who I don't make enough time for, 'I'll be outside in 5. Bring spoons.'

This used to be a weekly event although now it's maybe only a few times a year but I always know what she's talking about. 5 minutes later lights flash outside my window and it's Mannie waiting in her car with classic Primal Scream playing too loudly for comfort. Off we go to Tesco where we buy a massive tub of Phish Food (ice-cream for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of being aquainted with Uncle Ben and Uncle Jerry) and then we drive to a secluded viewpoint where we spend the next hour eating as much ice-cream as humanly possible. It's all very over-indulgent, in fact pure gluttony.

At high school it was something we happily did in a giddy haze, but now when either one of us receives the call we generally know it's because we've hit crisis point and need a good old moan. However, last night we were thoroughly irresponsible and returned to our roots. For 2 hours we laughed solidly about everything. I even divulged everything about DJ to which she told me, through a mouthful of ice-cream, just to go for it.

That's the thing about Mannie. She goes all out to get people to go down the most inappropriate path. I'm never sure if this comes from the fact she's a class A gossip or because she genuinely thinks 'fuck it'. Either way it's probably a good thing I don't see her as often anymore. For my mental state and my figure.

Unlike most of the female population I hate going to the hairdressers with a passion. Getting prepared is a military operation.

I go to the hairdressers for what should be 3 simple things: to get rid of deadends, to top up my highlights and to have it styled appropriately. I'm not a hairdresser and, granted, I have an argument with my hair pretty much everyday but I assume this isn't much to ask from someone who is qualified.

Nevertheless the moment I make the appointment I also either take that afternoon off work or cancel any plans for that night. When making the appointment I make perfectly sure I don't have the same hairdresser as last time (assuming I'm using the same establishment). The day itself I spend ages doing my hair, after all you'd brush your teeth if you were going to the dentist. Then I stuff my bag with a beanie hat and brace myself.

The problem begins when they wash my hair and realise it's naturally curly. I don't really have a vendetta against curly hair - I generally wear it straight but to be honest it's neither here nor there. The stylist's face at this moment of reckoning is priceless. In hair that's been a complete pain in the ass for years, they see a multitude of possibilities. In my experience none of them have been great. With a look suddenly replicating a mix between Shirley Temple and Shaka Kan, I race from the hairdressers, stick on my hat and run home for a shower.

The same has just happened and after spending a bloody fortune on a haircut I've just spent 2 hours bringing it back to fit within the realms of normality.

I spent this weekend assessing me and Jazz in our natural habitat so to speak. Shocked by my loss of all control on Thursday I realised I had no idea where my head was in regards to 'us'.

And so it commenced. For 48 hours he had my full attention and it actually in some ways was pretty great. We laughed a lot, had an amazingly romantic meal on Saturday night and there was a hell of a lot of sex involved. I later realised that 50% of this was in a certain way to shut him up when I was desperately trying to keep things sweet.

On the other hand I don't think it clicked until this weekend just how much I'm walking on eggshells around him. We can all be cranky but it just got silly on two separate occasions:
1. I really had to build myself up to tell him my chief bridesmaid and closest friend, Billie was coming to visit one day in December. I hardly see her, he was going to be at work. Technically I can't see where I went wrong here. Nevertheless he asked why and then went on for ages about the last time he saw his friend, Ray. He agreed with me that I've never stopped him - I even suggested he should go and visit/get him down for the weekend/pop in next time we're in the area but unless I was there and we spent the full weekend at Ray's house it wasn't good enough. Finally, and this is where I get really angry at myself, I said I would ask Billie not to come down. This just aggravated him and he promised it would be ok but I know it's not the last I've heard of it.
2. I suggested that. to give his mum a break, his parents could come here for a meal around Christmas. I still don't really understand what's wrong with this nor did he tell me but he flipped.

My head feeling a bit wrecked I realised how often it's like this. When I was trying to sleep last night I kept thinking about some of the things he's said and done and I couldn't bear for him to touch me. All night the time I told him I'd rather he'd cheated on me than behaved the way he has, ironically ran through my head.

In conclusion, it hit me just how much I'm with him for convenience. That makes me sound awful but I think about how much my family is going through and I don't want to add to that right now. He can be wonderful but there's a whole different, well-hidden side there that only Ray seems to have witnessed. I don't think I want that for my future. Sorry, there's a rant and a half!

To top all this off I was about to go in a meeting this morning when my manager turned to me and said, in an elloquent yet mocking voice that men seem to have mastered so well, "Did you intend to only paint the nails on your left hand?"

Jazz let me down last night. After, for want of a better term, the doctors provided us with the final nail in the coffin in regards to Annie, he promised he'd be home on time. Something that never happens these days. We had planned a nice dinner, a walk into town to see the Christmas lights - it should have been the light in such a dark day. Nevertheless the inevitable phone call came at 4 to let me know that he thought he should work on. Not because he had to or was asked to but because he reckoned it would be nice to have a little bit extra money with Christmas coming up. I bit my tongue and accepted it was probably his subtle revenge from the night before.

With a steely determination I figured I needed something so I would reach new pathetic depths and go and see the lights on my own. As fate would have it DJ phoned almost immediately to see how Annie had got on and insisted that yes, it was a little bit sad so we agreed to meet and go together.

It was perfect really. We have always had a comfortable silence between us and I wasn't really in the mood for entertaining. I was very much in control, however. When we were looking at the lights and he put his arm around me I moved away in this bizarre skippy motion and dragged him off to see something else.

By this point we were freezing and decided to go into an old favourite for a pre-dinner bottle of red. Somewhere among the great conversation and constant laughter my 'You're married, he's your ex. Don't go there!' head was replaced with my 'on a date' head. In fact, had it actually been a date it would have been the most perfect date I've ever been on.

When the time came to go home we left the bar and hugged 'goodbye'. I don't know why I did what happened next. I don't think I can blame it on the wine, I literally lost all awareness of the circumstances and, I hate to say this but for 30 seconds Jazz seemed to have been pushed out my head. It just blurted out as we pulled away from the hug and I caught his eye. It was very much a 'blah' moment. I couldn't stop the words from bursting out, 'kiss me'. There was a pause where he looked at me clearly reasoning the situation out (thank god someone was thinking) and then he did. And that was that!! We kissed and we went our separate ways. Nothing else!

Despite that, I feel so guilty today. I've been obsessing over it all morning to the point that I put hairspray on my neck instead of perfume. I just can't seem to get to the bottom of where all this is coming from.

It was a big day today in finding out what was going on with Annie after all these horrible months. To combat my worrying I sat down with Jazz and focussed on the football. In honesty he's driving me nuts at the moment. This is going to sound dreadful but I get so frustrated with him constantly asking if I'm ok and what's wrong just because I've been quiet for more than 30 seconds. I know it's harsh, he just cares etc etc. But the way I feel at the moment I sort of want to ask him what he bloody thinks is wrong.

Nevertheless we were doing ok when we started chatting about capital punishment. Can't remember how it came up but we always clash severely on this. Anyway we were talking about compassion and I started to say something about Annie when he interrupted me and snapped, 'what's it got to do with cancer?!'

It all seemed so random. I wasn't even going to mention anything about her cancer and after watching way too many people go through it, I hated the way he just immediately associated her with it. This probably seems so irrational to everyone else but I completely flew off the handle. It just felt to me that he's put a massive label on her head. In my experience, until you know someone who goes through it it's very hard to understand just how massive an impact cancer has on everything. With that thought in mind it just struck me that maybe he doesn't understand at all, and I was so horrible.

If he'd turned around and apologised (something which never happens) I don't think it would have turned into anything but instead he roared that that's what the f**k she has and I should just get over it and walked away.

The conclusion was we went to bed not talking and then he got up this morning as though nothing had happened and kissed me goodbye. While I still think he was a bit stupid and arrogant I've felt really guilty all day. I hate it when I feel like I've been unreasonable and I've apologised too many times but it's just making today a hundred times harder than it has to be. Let's hope I'm not developing a temper.

I think I'm being incredibly paranoid, well at least I hope so.

With Jazz being a little bit more 'love making and candles' than me I've been getting a bit bored recently and to be frank just wanted a good shag. So like a woman possessed I've been spicing things up and trying to break the consistent romance that's haunting me. I'll spare you the details but as a result sex is a lot more frequent and noisey.

The problem: We're growing positive our neighbour is switching off his tv as we're having sex. It's usually impossible to get to sleep due to his surround sound cinema-size tv and it's blaring when we go into the bedroom and then is silent when we're 'done'. It's becoming a huge distraction. Now instead of trying to pull some pornstar moves I'm deeply focussed on whether or not he can hear us. Talk about a passion killer! It just proves what I've always known - no good can come from living in a new-build.

My once darling baby sister, Peggy has not long turned 12 and is driving me crazy. I don't see her that often really but in the past 4 days I've been involved in 2 fully fledged family meals. Apparently it's 'that phase' but with a tremour of Ms Trunchbull, I just don't remember being quite that antagonistic at only 12. 14, 15, 16, 17 YES but 12 NO. Oh how they grow these days....

The thing with Peggy is she's great when we're babysitting (oops, sorry, when she comes to stay with us for a night). We take her out for dinner, watch movies and talk to her like a 'grown up'. It's great - she actually likes me and rambles about how great it is to have a big sister she can tell things to!!

On the other hand, when you throw parents and, Heaven forbid, a whole other set of people into the equation, it just all goes wrong. Luckily for me it's mainly my mum that gets it in the neck but as soon as my mum's at the end of her tether and threatens Peggy with bed it turns to me. 'Sibling rivalry' my mum calls it but to be quite frank when she repeatedly swung her legs and kicked me last night, I could hardly turn round and push her over. I just don't get it - I consistently ask her to stop, she continues to do it finding it hilarious and being overly hyper, I have to look helplessly at my mum. The problem is that despite it all she's 10 years younger than me and I'd get into trouble if I raised my voice, hit her leg away or said something remotely mean. Yes, really!! To make it worse, her sister bashing is intercepted by hugs for Jazz and sucking up with my dad.

On the up, however, her friends adore me and when she enters into a random verbal attack on me I can smile sweetly while they put her back in her place and defend me. Here's to her adolescent years speeding by!

Jazz, who I'm sure yearns to be middle aged with the house in the suburbs and me in an apron, brought up the issue of children last night. Well, actually we've talked about it before and it's always been on the table as something we'll do but I made it clear from the start I have a few pre-requisites. Mainly that emotionally and financially we're ready as a couple.

Nevertheless last night was the night he decided that we should just go for it. Just have children. Just like that. It's not that I don't like children it's that I'm happy with my lifestyle, my body, my home, my mind the way it is right now. That and the fact things aren't entirely peachy after the pre-wedding antics (I am talking to and seeing DJ quite regularly still but completely as friends). I went through it all with him but the only damn response I could get out of him was, 'If you look at it that way, it's never going to be the right time.'

It completely dominated my thoughts all last night and this morning and I suppose the tiny maternal part of my brain was coming round to the idea. Luckily I was quickly thrown back to earth before I flushed my trusty pill down the toilet and traded my car in for a people carrier.

Jazz has applied for a new job he's more than likely going to get and I stumbled across the job description to discover that the job he thinks will be 'setting us up long term' (another reason it's the right time apparently) results in him spending an alarmingly large amount of time away on business. We've since had a chat about this because I have no intention of quitting my job and pretty much single handedly bringing up our child while he's nowhere in sight. One month of marriage and he already seems to have pinned me in as his desperate housewife with 3 screaming kids and a virtual husband.

To top it all off when I told him I think he could do with looking at it from a woman's point of view because she is affected in a greater sense(sorry, men, but seriously a suddenly limited work and social life, and the chance your body could rapidly begin going down hill to boot) he responded with, 'Don't be ridiculous, you'll be having so much fun at home with the baby you won't even be thinking about anything else.'

Anyway........it'll be a long time (if ever) before we go down that route!

My hatred for facebook is quite frankly growing. I was faffing around with Jazz last night when we got talking about it and I suggested that a particular friend of his would probably be on it - posing of course and trying to maintain his 'super cool' image. So on we go and before I know it Jazz is obsessively looking through his friend's friends (it just all seems so ridiculous to me). I'm blissfully drinking my tea and staring out the window when he suddenly says, 'Oh my god there's Twiggy.'

Twiggy is Jazz's ex and only other serious girlfriend in that they lived together for a short while. It all ended messily when she cheated on him so I've never met her and have been more than happy to paint my own picture of her - skeletal with red frizzy hair and head to toe in freckles. Maybe the odd boil too.

My own picture quickly faded and was replaced by a picture of 2 girls. The one on the left was a bit shiny and funny looking (I could live with that) while the one on the right was absolutely stunning. Through gritted teeth I asked which one she was (one on the left, please please please be the one on the left) 'oh she's the one on the right. Haven't you seen her before?'

'No,' my smile is becoming more fixed and fake by the second 'She's very pretty.' No, I probably shouldn't have said that but it was the only sentence running through my head.

'It takes her 2 hours to get ready or she wouldn't look like that. She used to get up before me every morning so I never saw her any other way.'

'Yes, because it's never taken me that long to get ready. And I hope that's not a hint?!'

'No, don't be silly. I married you, it's completely different (charming). Plus she never ate anything. Can't you see how unhealthily skinny she is?'

'No, no she really looks perfectly normal to me. In fact if I just lost a few pounds....'

By the end of this tortured conversation and my overly insecure female outburst I had pretty much came to the conclusion that I should use fake tan on a much more regular basis, die my hair blonde and painstakingly drop a dress size. It wasn't until this morning that I realised how ridiculous I was being. I didn't use any ground breaking affirmations nor did I leaf through a self-help book nor did I blame Jazz for his slightly male and insensitive comments, to get me back to normal. What brought me back then? The realisation that I was behaving like the type of woman I hate and, to be honest, I'm having a fricking good hair day!

I was absolutely dreading this weekend but at the same time it couldn't come quick enough. There I was on Friday afternoon frantically packing my bag and making a lasagne, desperate to get in the car and on the motorway.

Just over an hour later I arrive at Annie's and her wonderful husband, Mr T's. It's the first time I've seen either of them since the wedding so feeling desperately guilty and hoping to do some serious cheering up with a slice of lasagne for Annie (her favourite which she rarely has because Mr T doesn't like it) I got out the car to be greeted by a massive hug from Mr T himself. I was convinced at this point that this visit was going to tip me over the edge.

When I went in the house Annie was standing there tinier and more shattered than ever. It was so awkward. Well on my part anyway. Suddenly unable to even look her in the face I spent the first hour in the house feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Knowing I didn't want to be the one to mention the horrible 'cancer' word, despite always being able to speak frankly with her, I was panicking.

It was when I was washing the dishes after dinner that things began to feel normal again. She mentioned her appointment deciding when/if the chemo should happen and then she looked at me and just said it - 'You know the chemo's only a stop gap don't you?' And that was it. I gave her the biggest hug, hating the fact there's now nothing of the strongest person in my life, and we moved on.

The night was like any other I have there. We ate lots, the wine flowed, we watched Eastenders and talked about everything. I did my bit and made it clear to both of them that I'm there and then the cancer was pretty much forgotten, well at least for a while. Like a small weight has been lifted off my shoulders, I am so pleased I just got to spend a normal few hours with 2 of the most precious people in my life.

The morning was where it got hard and as we decided to leave and my voice started to break Annie put her arm around me and started talking about the squirrel in the garden and when Mr T threw a boot at a cockerel - no need to call the RSPCA it was many years ago. As we drove away from them (the hardest thing in the world at the moment) I desperately tried not to cry and smiled manically at them as I waved goodbye. Now whenever it's getting on top of me I think about how bloody stupid I must have looked and at least try and have a good laugh.

I went shopping with my mum yesterday in a desperate attempt to cheer her up which seemed to be working. Everything was great and we were wandering around some climbing orientated shop when we turned the corner and there he was. Everywhere I go! While things are no longer technically awkward it doesn't help my newly discovered willpower when I see DJ virtually everyday.

Luckily I had my mum to help me get away with a quick 'hi' and no major conversation. You see my mum has never met him before. When we got together initially I was 17 and the age gap was, erm, an issue which my mum far from got on board with. In fact I'm sure in a teenage strop she yelled at me that he was nearer her age than mine (I have a young mum) to which I yelled back, 'well you have him then'. Oh it just reaks of maturity.

Nevertheless 5 years later she's said to me on a couple of occasions that she feels bad driving a wedge between us because she genuinely felt he could have been my 'one'. So I fulfilled one of her wishes yesterday by subtily pointing him out to her which resulted in her craning her neck to see him and saying way too loudly, 'my god, he's gorgeous. And not loosing his hair like Jazz'. My poor, poor husband!

It appears to me that the embarassment level rises everytime I bump into an ex which my mum continued to go all out to prove. In the couple of minutes we were waiting at the till she also managed to make a large show of passing me a bumper pack of pink glittery stickers (for Annie not me) and then jumped all over the place complaining about a vibration on her leg. Her words not mine! After some very cagey questioning I finally got to the bottom of it and discovered it was some nerve related tick. And we left the store.....

2 hours later I got a message from DJ saying, 'Great to meet the family at last. The similarities shine through xx' - Oh no!

Just had 'that' catch up with two old school friends. We all know the one - the obligatory 'we're all in the same area for a few days' one. Don't get me wrong it's always nice to see them and know it's going well but it's always painfully awkward at times.

We're all in very different places (particularly me where these 2 are concerned). I'm a firm believer that some friendships are meant to be forever and unfortunately some you just plain and simply grow out of. You can't expect to be the exact same person you were in school all your life and whenever I spend time with them I feel that's exactly who I need to try to be.

I feel we've drifted and I'm comfortable with that but I've now found myself committed to a Christmas night out with the wide spectrum of individuals from my past (not to mention Hemingway - always a pleasure). Yet here I am feeling entirely guilty that I really don't want to go! Ah well another night recounting all the fading stories from high school for a hundredth time just wouldn't make it Christmas would it?!