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It's Friday and – dare I say this? – I stormed through this week kicking some serious ass.
I'm probably still on a high from a fabulous weekend, and there was no sign of Tearful Tuesday or Weepy Wednesday. Nor of Touchy Tuesday or Witchy Wednesday for that matter.
I was seriously fearing a Tragic Thursday but no, nothing. High spirits and loads of energy. I mean, I even went running every day this week. You see, me running is as rare a sight as Marcus using an umbrella. It just does not happen.
From the look of things, I doubt that this will be a Frightful Friday, as I've still got plenty to do, and a date tonight that I'm looking very much forward to.

Nevertheless, as my body is prone to behaving in the most bizarre ways sometimes, I wouldn't be surprised if I was suddenly hit by Soppy Saturday or Suicidal Sunday. So if you see someone (with very low swimming skills) stepping out of the post Pride Party at Wild Fruit tomorrow night and jumping straight off Brighton Pier, well, that could be me.