Ladette to lady.

For much of my life, my Dad has made it his mission to get me to be 'more ladylike'. (Buy a girl a Derby County season ticket at nine, and what do you expect?) First it was my accent. (Ditto.) Then my insistence on wearing trousers to school instead of a skirt. (That all changed during assembly one day when some little tosser enquired at considerable volume, 'Oi, are you a transvestite?') Next it

Ladette to lady.

By: Unknown on: 09:01

From despair to where?

On millennium night, I had a party in my folks' house. I invited a bunch of mates, bought in enough booze to render a small country unconscious until the next millennium, made a playlist (man, I make a mean playlist), pulled on a posh frock and backed up my computer files before the bug had a chance to swallow them. We had a stonking night – whiskey-drinking contests, people snogging in cupboards

From despair to where?

By: Unknown on: 13:28

The final countdown.

Well crikey, that was a brilliantly busy couple of blog days. And not just on a followers/hits/Stephen Fry (Stephen Fry!!) front, either. It's been an education. Without all of that excitement, I wouldn't have known about the Straight Pube Phenomenon.In all truth, it's a while since I paid any attention to my bikini line. Largely because I haven't had to (Lessons In Cancer #1: at least some of

The final countdown.

By: Unknown on: 06:26

When the chips are down.

I think my headscarf just got me off a parking ticket. Today's radiotherapy overran by about, ooh, three weeks, and by the time I got back to the car, there was a traffic warden tapping away on his ticket machine, licking his lips and circling my Astra like a hungry bird of prey. You know how parking attendants always tell you they've already started making out your ticket and can't possibly stop

When the chips are down.

By: Unknown on: 10:36

Rehab.

Well I don't know about you, Winehouse, but I say yes, yes, yes. Step aside, Lohan. Out of the way, Moss. Your time is up, Williams. Search my bag and save me a room in The Priory; I'm on a one-way ticket to self-improvement.

Like I said last year, 2009 is the year of Sorting Shit Out. Seriously, check the Chinese zodiac. (Do you like how I said 'last year' back then? See, it's all just a bad

Rehab.

By: Unknown on: 11:42

And never brought to mind.

As a person who's generally happiest when life is unexcitedly plodding along, I've always wondered how people cope with huge matters of fate-dealt chance that completely alter the course of their lives. Particularly famous people. Not your Katonas or Goodys or Houghtons; more the Presleys, Monroes and McCartneys of the world. Surely it's impossible to go from being ordinary theatre-worker Elvis

And never brought to mind.

By: Unknown on: 07:37

Radio Ga Ga.

I'm starting to wonder whether The Bullshit is just one big stunt designed to embarrass the arse off me. I'm half expecting a film crew to walk into my living room with a very shouty Ashton Kutcher who'll announce that it's all been an elaborate, made-for-TV hoax and that I have, indeed, been Punk'd. It is all quite ridiculous though, don't you think? The missing nipple, the baldness, the

Radio Ga Ga.

By: Unknown on: 09:40