Just discovered that my friends the builders have painted all my windows shut. I thought the sing-a-long-a-Magic FM was good, I thought the belches, fucking and farting had harmonious potential, and their pile driving! Let there be pile driving. But the windows. There really is no end to their talents.

(Dan: this one's for you.)

Four years have passed since I last took a good look in my bag. Here's what's in there now. For the curious, it's currently a leather-strapped cross-body jobby.

2 tissues
1 comb
1 red pen
1 blue pen
1 black pen
1 A4 ringbound notepad
1 USB cable
£50 John Lewis vouchers
1 receipt for Davy's White City (£4.25)
1 London Underground receipt
1 business card (Kate Jones)
1 Philosophy Gingerbread Man lip gloss
1 memory stick holder
6 tampons (3 green, 3 red)
1 smile cheque book
8 tablets left of Nurofen plus
1 invitation to 'Liquid Gold'
1 tiny Christmas card in a green envelope
1 white envelope containing a message for someone else
1 blue and white patterned badge
1 pink and white umbrella
1 Orla Kiely purse
1 business card (me)
5p
what's left of my work pass

Watching a woman on the tube with a gi-normous La Perla bag of which she seemed very proud. Shurely the smaller the bag, the better, I mean, visions of voluminous pants ahoy or what. (And I don't care if it contained lots of small things, that's not the point.)