They're showing Steel Magnolias on Living TV this afternoon. I'd forgotten how much I love it. I know that's yet another tick on the 'how stereotypical are you' chart, but I don't care. There is a good reason why the memorable quotes page on the IMDB page is twice as long as for most films. Everything that comes out of Shirley MacLaine's mouth is pure brilliance, and Olympia Dukakis is amazing.

But along with the quotes, there's also the wardrobe and hair and makeup to love. I adore the bit in Truvy's hair salon where Dolly Parton gives Julia Roberts brilliant hair and then inexplicably backcombs it into oblivion. Only in the 80s! Daryl Hannah also has the best glasses in the world, and I cringe when she changes them for contacts and becomes a Truvy clone.

Courtesy of this wonderful person, enjoy...

I have finally begun The Great London Flathunt. My experience is that in this game, timing is everything. I don't technically become homeless until October 13th, so I've been putting off searching for a place until September because I really can't afford to be paying rent on two places at the same time for more than a couple of weeks. But now, I have only a month and a bit to find a suitable flat that's within my budget, and the voices (both in my head and in real life) are telling me this isn't going to be as easy as I think it is.

So today I finally got off my arse and put out some very tentative feelers. I hate dealing with letting agents and would like to spend as little time as possible actually conversing with them, so I've started off just sending out email form requests via Find a Property. I'm pretty sure they'll go ignored, but you never know. I suppose it depends how desperate they are to fill one bed flats in Crystal Palace at the moment. Hopefully pretty desperate.

At least this time I have decided on an area, I suppose. I've lived in four places in London and each time the flat hunt has been like looking for a needle in a haystack. I've wanted different things each time. The first time I just wanted a flat. I got that, and the nightmare flatmate from hell and an hour and a half commute. The second time, I wanted an easy commute (I got a 35 minute door-to-door one, despite living in zone 4.it all would have been perfect had it not been for the Chancery Lane crash wiping out the entire central line). The third time, I wanted a safe area. I got that, but I also got a teensy bedroom and a shower that didn't work the entire timeI lived there.

The fourth time, I wanted cheap and comfy with nice people. And Geek Central has done me well. But when I saw the burnt out car at the bottom of the road this morning, I knew I'd made the right decision choosing to move on. There's only so long you can live like a student when you're supposed to be a young professional.

So, bring on living like a hermit. I'm going to be spending so much on rent I won't be able to actually do anything any more...

I lied to you all. Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day is not the best film in the world. In fact, it's probably one of the worst. I suggest you just watch the trailer. That way you get the gist without having to actually sit through the film.

I've hit a wall with my novel and it's driving me mad. I know exactly where I need to go, I've even jumped in and written others bits to see if I can slowly tie it all together, but I keep going back to the end of the 20k I've written in sequence and thinking 'what now?'.

There are a few obvious problems. A lot of the story takes place in flashback form, or as descriptions from the main character. Two of the 'leads', or at least the most influential characters, spend most of the story away from the action and we only hear about them through the narrator. This was probably a mistake, because it's causing me all kinds of problems, least of all the fact those who've read the first 15k didn't like either of the characters, probably because they don't speak, and they're only ever described through the eyes of someone with a real chip on her shoulder. Of course they're meant to be likeable. Well, one of them is.

Any tips on how to get over writers block?

I grew up here...



Not in the pub, obviously, but in the village. According to Wikipedia, there are 2,549 people in our village, which also boasts a shop, a hairdressers, a village hall, a village green, two schools (one private, one primary) and a castle. Still no street lights, though.

Then, at 18, I moved here...



Bit different, isn't it.

This weekend, I had a real 'I love London' moment. I went to look around Crystal Palace, where I'm hoping to move next month, and I just loved it. It was one of those perfect days - the Sun was out, the place was blissfully quiet, the nutters were well hidden and I even discovered a shop that sold vintage glassware (babycham coupes for £4.50 each...amazing considering they're a tenner online). Then on Sunday I went for drinks near London Bridge and being sat on the banks of the Thames with a glass of bubbly I just thought 'you're bloody lucky to live here'.

Then on the way home I almost got run over and remembered why I sometimes hate this place. Oops.

It's like they looked into my brain and made my dream film. If only JJ Feild had Lee Pace's part. I don't think you'd be able to get me out of my seat at the end.

Another year has passed, and I'm 25. No more of this 'early twenties' malarkey for me. I'm proper old now, kids.

Not that I act it. I had my party on Saturday, with 30-odd of my nearest and dearest and a few of their friends piling into Geek Central dressed like pin-up girls and hawaiian partygoers for my retro tiki themed party. As you can see, I went for the subtle approach. This is me with Colin the hula boy, who adorned my wall for the party. He's not the only one, he was joined by Polly from Polynesia and a set of wall decorations that turned ceiling to floor of the disco room (yes, we have a disco room) into a tropical paradise.

I have now set something of a party precedent, so I reckon that'll be the last one I have for a few years. Me and Susi (who shares a birthday with me) have decided it may be a good plan to alternate the responsibility each year.

Anyway, now I am 25, I've decided there are a few things I'd like to do in the next twelve months. They are...

1) Move into a flat on my own. I already plan to do this in September. I'll still be renting, but I won't be responsible for anyone but me, which will be wonderful.

2) Finish writing my novel. Decide I hate it. Get drunk one night and delete the whole thing from my computer. Wake up the next morning realising my terrible mistake. Thank the lord for the windows recycle bin.

3) Take up sewing again. Vintage patterns only.

4) Get my weight back to what it was circa November 2006. I doubt this one will happen.

5) Have a relationship. A proper one. Not an inappropriate fling. Not a string of dates that lasts months but never goes anywhere. Not an unrequited crush. Definitely not an obsession with a gay man who sings showtunes. Or someone else's boyfriend.

6) See Kim again. Be it her coming here, me going to Oz or us both meeting in Vegas. I'm pulling for the latter. New York New York is calling to me. As is the Fashion Show Mall.

7) Be on telly as a professional in my industry. Properly this time, not as a 'frenzied fashionista'.

8) Join (or start) a band, a choir, a choral society or similar. Or start going to dancing lessons.

9) Actually *go* to the gym. This ties in with 4) really.

10) Drink less. Yeahright.

It's my birthday on Monday. Right now I'm having to really stop myself from doing a Zara.

She actually got the perfume, you know. They sent it to her by courier on the day.

*awe*