Last night saw another confirmation that Jazz shouldn't drink. I can't remember the point when it became acceptable for him to roll in at 5am, wake me up yelling about nothing in particular and smash my guitar against the wall until it broke. Nor can I remember when I started to see this as acceptable and stopped fighting my corner. At least I can grasp onto the fact he's dragging his b*d ass through a 12 hour day.

Note to self: Anyone does this to me again, I will justifiedly pound them into the ground. Agressive and bitter?! Moi?!

Jazz is off out tonight leaving me well and truly alone. Can't wait!! A long awaited excuse for a glass of red and an old Vincente Minnelli movie. How horribly pretentious!

Cabernet Sauvignon and 'Undercurrent' anyone?!

My parents are moving house soon. Cue a reappearance of my 'stuff' that has been resting with the dust in their loft for the past 7 years. Jazz and I lugged it home last night and, after (ahem) him making four trips to and from the car, we cracked open a bottle of wine and went through it all.

The things you forget about. I'd thought I'd moved pretty much all of my stuff out of their house years ago but 6 boxes and 1 binbag later I discovered this was not so. It was a highly emotive experience and I was grateful for how present Jazz was throughout the process; despite him identifying my portrait of Van Gogh as 'lines and squiggles'.

Beneath the wine and conversation there was a mixture of tears (to be able to scratch the surface of a photograph and experience that moment and that person again), contemplation (how old letters have really made me consider contacting a certain childhood friend, and maybe even attempt to mend bridges with a particular family member) and laughter (I'm not sure exactly how many 8 year olds wrote to John Major regarding the travesty of Mr Blobby being in the charts, but from what I recall my letter didn't make much impact).

It was all so worth it!

Ran into DJ yesterday despite my best efforts to avoid him. I saw him coming but was hoping that he wouldn't notice me if I kept my eyes dead ahead and pretended not to hear his 'hello'. It gets difficult to pull this one off when the person says 'hi' a second time and grabs your arm.

Following his announcement that he's dating again I made the uber mature decision to cut him out, partly because I really don't want to know and also because I assume it makes good sense. Him not being party to this decision made it quite awkward to get out of going for a coffee with him.

We talked for ages but with the new girl on the scene hanging over us I put on my best 'couldn't give a damn' voice and asked, 'So how's it going with the new girl? Head over heels in love yet?' Cringe!

The relief I felt when he said she was really dull and a 'little bit stupid' was, I'm sure, written all over my face even though I forced my massive grin into a sympathetic grimace. Feeling confident I asked if he was planning to see her again....

Oh yeah, it's worth giving her a shot (SMASH), she's really pretty (BANG) and it's kind of rude to sleep with her and then ditch her straight away (WALLOP)

After those revelations I went all awkward and rambled for the next half hour before making my excuses. When I stood up to leave he asked me why I can't just admit that I care (I hate that he can be so forward - it makes it ten times more difficult) and I responded with, 'Because I really really don't.' (and I hate that I'm so bloody terrified to be honest with anybody - that also makes it ten times more difficult). I think my curt response was down to his stupidly smug grin as he said it. How can guys be so damn cocky?!

Now things are left on a bad note, followed up by a drunken message from me saying 'I might care...' What the hell was that meant to mean?! Phone will be left at home from now on.

Going to see Editors with him tonight too. Can't wait for all the awkwardness!

Oh dear, inappropriate crush on a celebrity figure is occuring.

Mark Ronson!

I've resisted temptation for months now, distracting myself with Ronan O'Gara seeing as it's rugby season, but to no avail. My teenage fixation with broody, quiet, creative young men is seeping through.

Now, where to get that poster for my bedroom?!

My early night went out the window last night when I hooked up with an old friend of mine for a drink or twelve. X and I go back a long way. At school we talked about sex, bought obscenely short skirts together and, exuding class, drank a lot of Lambrini.

She's ridiculously shallow and manages to simplify everything. Just what I was looking for last night. Here's how our evening went:

I'm at the bottom of my overdraft right now
Sucks, huh?
Yeah I really should stop spending, although I still want that bag
Are you going to get it?
Oh yeah. Tomorrow.

* * *

How's Annie?
Awful to be honest
Awww. And your mum?
Worse believe it or not
Awww

* * *

Did you hear about the attempted murder?
No, why? What happened?
Some guy. Right next to my work
What happened?
Stabbing, I think. It could have been anyone. It could have been me, I walk there all the time.
Erm, yeah. So who was it?
Don't know. Remember we used to go to the pub on that corner?

* * *

One tequilla, two tequilla, three tequilla....

FLOOR!!!!

I'm tired. So so tired. So much so that Faithless keeps ringing in my ears.

Blocking out all feelings of guilt I went off to London for the 'big interview' on Tuesday. Following a sleepless and tad inappropriate Monday night I had to drag my sorry ass the most intensive interview of my life and then spend hours travelling home. When I got the call asking me back for a second interview I was in high spirits....

Then I met Jazz at the train station. I'd sent him a message on the way home to let him know and, due to his OTT excitement and support at every interview and job I've ever had, I was expecting at least a 'well done, you' despite his own feelings. It took a long drive home, a stop at Tesco and half an hour at home before I even got a word out of him about it. Except it wasn't a word but what turned into a 6 hour argument and the end of my plan to get some sleep. It was a long, unnecessary one and a great welcome home. It ended with him (shock, shock, horror, horror) apologising and me making Arancini (not easy with bleary eyes but try going 14 hours without food) at 2am.

So with a day off and an interview today I figured I'd have a lie in but nope, 7am comes and I'm woken up by the phone. This time it was my mum in floods of tears about EVERYTHING. It resulted in the rescheduling of my interview and dashing round to see her. For hours I had to sit and listen to how she would have to 'try and cope' if I were to move to London.

Next came a call from Annie and Mr T. Annie reckons that I'm putting my marriage in serious danger and it's not a good move while Mr T doesn't want me to live so far away and, in his usual flash of non-PC humour, reminded me that London is 'full to the brim with axe murderers and weirdos'. Apologies to all you Londoners out there - not my words.

Thank the Lord for dads though. When I called him this afternoon to update him on mum's progress, the call was filled with 'hugs down the phone', congratulations and strong encouragement. I'm feeling much more positive now and I've let go of the feeling that I'm being entirely selfish (in fact I think they're being a bunch of selfish b*ds themselves).....well at least until Jazz comes home to lay it on thick.

So done in with Valentines Day already this year. Despite being a closet romantic I've never been a fan. It could be down to my memories at school when a good friend badgered her boyfriend for months to buy her a dozen red roses (no cliches here). Eventually the fateful day came and he virtually threw them across the common room at her and yelled, 'Here!'. With the magic of St Valentine in force she was blissfully happy and loved up with her 'perfect' boyfriend for the rest of the day.

If it's not that it could be all the pink and tat in the shops. After all does anyone really know where to put that fluffy bee holding a heart that reads 'Bee Mine'?

Or it could be the fact that if you're single it seems everyone else is coupled up, and if you're in a couple every single person out there appears to hate you. When I was on the phone to my bank earlier and mentioned that I had tomorrow and Friday off the girl said in a whiney voice, 'Oh please tell me it's not for Valentine's Day, I'm sooooooo jealous.'

Our plans don't differ from year to year. Jazz moved in with me around Valentines Day so we celebrate that anniversary (3 years!) with the premise that living together is one of the biggest challenges. It's an idealic couple of days to me - no cards, no presents just 2 days off work steeped in as much romance as possible and as little cheese as we can get away with.

Either way I hope you all have a great one! It doesn't matter how you do it just as long as it makes you happy! (oops a little too much cheese after all)

Of all the humiliations this has been by far the worst. Yesterday came a massive interview which I have been pining after for a while, partly because it doesn't result in me making a massive decision while putting my marriage on the line. To me this was huge, the most nervous I've been in an age.

Wearing an outfit which was 'both creative and professional', I left Jazz tearing his hair out and trying to work out what 'too much concealer' actually means. I was calm, well-researched and ready. For once I managed to enter the building, sign in and make small talk without any of my usual clumsy mistakes. When the head of the interviewing panel came to collect me it all seemed to be getting better: my handshake was good, we were from the same town, I made him laugh. Oh how things were about to turn.

On entering the interview room I was introduced to the other 3 on the board. Scary woman, old director man, ooh he's young, cute and familiar. When my eyes met with young, cute guy he went instantly red and stared at the desk for the whole interview. Confused? Yes, for about 5 minutes.

I really couldn't get by the fact I recognised him and between questions was trying desperately to trace him. Then came the anvil, the major blow, my ambitions of working there crashing around me. Ooooh that's who he is. Oh my God! The moment of realisation was a long time coming and painfully slow.

Turns out he's the guy I had wild, drunken sex with years ago in the garden at a houseparty. The rest of the interview consisted of me blushing fiercely and bumbling through every question they threw at me. Meanwhile, the image of me riding him on a swinging gazebo just would not shift.

Bizarrely I have since been offered the job with a couple of days to think about it. It would entail working, not only under, but closely with him everyday for now until when the ground finally does swallows me up. Sorely tempted to turn it down.... Why oh why?!

Annie is out of hospital and it's clear for another short while. It's been touch and go all week but she's made it through and has rebuilt her immune system.

Feeling incredibly guilty I didn't manage to get to see her until Friday. It's amazing how quickly an hour can go by. Leaving her was terrible, I felt like a frightened child as Mr T put his arm around me and guided me away. Deteremined not to let her see me cry I was screaming at myself, 'a weaker person would cry right now'. It's not what I believe but it usually manages to stop me tipping over the edge.

When we got back to Mr T's he had really wanted us to stay and, being worried that it would be too much pressure, we hadn't brought anything with us. He'd made us soup and sandwiches despite being a broken man. It feels like he's not been inherently happy for months and in my whole 22 years I've never known him quite like this. Horribly I doubt he'll ever be quite the same again.

Finally we left and I don't think I ever cried so much. The whole hour home I was incosolable and nothing Jazz said could stop the tears streaming from my eyes.

Nonetheless this story has a happy ending (like most - only temporarily). I just got a call from Annie who's safely at home because she really just wanted to say 'hi'. It was at that moment when I heard he on the phone that I finally breathed a sigh of relief after 5 days of hell.

I have no idea what to do. It was only 20 minutes ago that I got a call saying Annie is being rushed to hospital - a trip she doesn't think she'll see out according to Mr T.

Now I'm just waiting for some kind of news. Is it the impact of the chemo or the moment the cancer has been pushing for? It keeps flashing through my head that I haven't phoned her for 3 days or that if this is it then I don't have a clue what my next move should be.

I'm sitting at work in a daze waiting for the update, my head spinning. It's funny how time hits a standstill at moments like these.

I'm going crazy. For the second time this week I've not been able to sleep.

This morning I woke up at 1am and even without the fierce influence of caffeine I was wide awake....until 7am. For 6 hours I lay in bed absolutely zombified. I was so exhausted yet my body just wasn't co-operating. It's amazing what you can worry about when you're awake in the middle of the night. Once I'd spent hours tossing, turning and obsessing over my usual niggles I randomly turned my attentions to facebook. For ages I played over all the ins and outs of a recent article regarding it in my head. It was ridiculous, there are few things I care less about yet it managed to keep me awake.

When I finally got 30 minutes worth of kip I was woken by a terrifying nightmare in which I was waking up to gun shots outside the window, a girl screaming and a huge guy with a gun standing in my doorway with a gun. I'm almost scared to go to bed tonight, I'm not sure how many more nights like this I can tolerate.

Recently I've made a crazed attempt at fading out my relationship with DJ due to the fact I'm married and it makes me feel like the Devil incarnate. It was going as well as it could with regular coffees, drinks, club nights and a mountain of tension.

The one bonus has been that it's felt in some respects to have benefited my relationship with Jazz. When I see DJ I'm happier, stronger and a lot more content which carries on even once I'm home. Picking up on this Jazz has been a lot more attentive because I no longer tip-toe around him, almost like it doesn't matter whether my home life is happy or not because I have a haven with DJ. Oh God, I'm cringing inside.

Last night it changed when DJ asked me round for coffee and then told me he'd met someone, was thinking about asking her out and wanted to make sure not only that I was ok with it, but that what we had was truly put to rest. Through gritted teeth and the fakest smile known to man I told him it was fine and foolishly asked him all about her. Note to self: never, ever put yourself through that again.

I know I could phone him at any moment and say 'hey, it's not ok' but I don't even have to explain why I can't do that. For months now he's been playing second fiddle to my husband, I couldn't be more selfish. At the same time I just don't think I'm ready to move on and I really don't want him to be.