Happy New Year, everyone! Best wishes for a happy and prosperous 2007!

Argh, no, I can't do it, I can't even keep a straight face as I type it! Everyone please calm down, the world is just as shit as it was 24 hours ago, if not worse, as it is now January - shudder.

I did in fact end up going to the pub last night. At about 9pm I realised that I was sat watching Heartbeat with my parents and silently wanting to slit my wrists. Half an hour later, primped and preened with spangles, make-up and a perma-smile plastered on (tears of a clown and all that), I had a glass of wine in my hand. Again. Now I'm not saying I drink a lot, but I do have it on good authority that the staff behind the bar, upon being made aware of my arrival, went to get more bottles of the medium white. Well, poo on a stick in their faces, I was only there 2 and a half hours, I'm not a fish.

Speaking of which, I'm not allowed Julian. We are to be parted forever. I'd even set up an antibacterial quarantine bucket for him. Farewell my love. Should we ever by chance meet again, I'll be sure to surreptitiously scoop you from your watery world of doom into a medium food bag and whisk you away to a better place, even if that place is Hull.

And speaking of a love of fish, the old school friend from the party the other night was there too. Ok, maybe the reason I ended up going may have been due to him texing me at about 8.30pm that he'd be there. The final shove to get me off the sofa and away from Heartbeat.

I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm becoming fixated that the only way I'm going to be happy is to finally be done with girls, who have always broken my heart and destroyed me for years and years. I should find a bloke, and get married. I seem to have decided that this fellow shall be the one. Perhaps that's why I came on a little too strong. I didn't throw myself at him, just demanded a kiss at midnight, which may have scared him a little. Everyone else was doing it. Apparently it's a tradition. My only new year's eve tradition is an Indian takeaway and beer - perhaps it was my breath that scared him?

Everyone else was part of a couple, so I was stood by him all night. We rowed over who was going to the bar next, whether or not it was too girly for him to look after my handbag while I fought my way to the loo, and who should get to wear the one remaining party hat - which, in the tickle battle that followed, ended up ripped into pieces, which I claimed as my own and shoved down my top. My victory was shortlived, as he duly retrieved them (I was agog - boys never do that! The failsafe had failed me!). For a couple of hours I felt like I was in a normal relationship, with someone I haven't spoken to for years, and have seen twice in one week. On both occasions I behaved like an alcoholic. I know I have an obsessive personality but even I can see it's ridiculous.

I don't imagine he's naming our second born yet either. The first born is 4 or 5 now. He did insist on walking me home again though. (Did he insist?)

I know I over compensate for my nerves and depression by being bossy. I'm not sure he liked it. He also agreed that my love of naming things after Shakespeare characters was boring. Not a good start.

But, if we're to be married, he better get used to it.