What are the odds of being sick on a bank holiday? One in a million.

My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton, and I've got a headache and I'm full of aches and pains and I'm a sicky.

Lemsip maximum strength is my new best friend. So delightful and soothing and hot and lemony. If I could marry a medication, I think it might be this one. The only thing that's let me down is the whole "5 packets per box" thing. That means I'm actually going to have to go outside and get more. Why doesn't the off-licence near my flat deliver? Is that too much to ask?

And how much of a rip-off is it to be sick on a long weekend? That's absolutely outrageous. I'm so not okay with this. Yesterday, I was supposed to go and have lovely drinks in the afternoon, but did I? No, I did not. I stayed in bed and watched multiple episodes of Charmed on Living. (Oh, that Cole. Will he ever learn?)

I'm currently debating whether or not I have the energy to get out of bed and do something today. Right now, I'm leaning more towards the "no" side of that one.

I blame the poetry flat for this. Well, I have no real reason to do that, but I did get sick after getting back from Edinburgh. That's enough proof for me.

Being sick sucks.

Back from Edinburgh...

... and feeling crappy.

Had an absolutely fantastic time, though. Edinburgh is absolutely gorgeous - small enough to not have to take taxis or public transit everywhere and so, so pretty.

Sarah and I decided that it would be best to start the journey with a hangover, and joined four other lovely ladies for a girlie night at Jenny's house on Wednesday night. Pizza, pink champagne, chocolates, fabulous (if I do say so myself) mixed cd's and quality television. Who could ask for more? After deciding at about 3am that we should probably try and get a little bit of sleep, we then got up at 6 to meet Tim at Kings Cross for 7:30.

Can I just say that if you're taking the train to Edinburgh - don't do it in the smoking car. Gross. Especially for a non-smoker. My eyes are hurting just thinking about four and a half hours in a smoke filled box. We got to Edinburgh at about 12:30 on Thursday and were met by the lovely John at the train station and taken to the flat. It's a crazy zig-zaggy stairs everywhere kind of flat, but huge. It was the Short Fuse flat that we were staying at. Clare was telling us a story about getting lost in it last year and Sarah and I were all Lost in a flat? How lame can you get? Now that I've seen it, I can understand. It's confusing.

We went to see Big Word when we first got there, which I was too tired to totally enjoy. Trains + hangovers = tired Alice. It was really hot in the room, and I was all tired and stuff and I think I may have dozed off slightly. How bad is that?

And then we had drinks. That being the theme of the weekend - drinks.

To be honest, I can't remember everything we did in consecutive order. Things kind of blur together. Now that I'm back in the office, it really doesn't seem likely that we ever went away. But I will now provide a list of the most memorable things about the weekend:

• Cocksucker. The phrase of the trip, and so very versitile in it's use. Try sending it in a text message, or yelling it at a stranger on the street, or adding it to a line of poetry: "Shall I compare thee to a summer cocksucker". Hilarious, I tell you.
• Bloody Mary's with breakfast. It's not really an alcoholic drink if it has vitamins in it. Of course, when breakfast is at 1pm, then all bets are off.
• The mirken (spelling to be confirmed) - apparently it's a pubic wig. Why does this exist? How does one wear it? Who came up with this? And, most importantly, why does this exist??
• Healthy broccoli. Someone told Nathan that he looked like healthy broccoli. What could that possibly mean? Is it an insult? A compliment? Was it just because he was wearing a green shirt?
• The summer Olympics are boring. Seriously, badminton is an Olympic sport? Now give me a good winter Olympics. That's entertainment.
• Kobrinsky and Andy discovering that they could both do the Highland Fling on the train platform in Perth. And performing it drunkenly. On the train platform. And then again outside a pub in Edinburgh. We kidnapped him, and he got drunk with us. Excellent.
• Sarah doing the only spit take I think I've ever seen in real life - all over Nathan's Auntie Avril.
• Going to see Drinking and Writing and getting drunk with the writers/performers. Who both drink and write. Much like the people I was staying with. I just drink.
• Viv, the hot rickshaw driver. Cheryl would have you believe that it was just Sarah and I checking out his ass but she totally was too. Sarah, however, was the only one who took photos. Of his ass. As he was driving the three of us around the very hilly city of Edinburgh.
• Sabrina George - proud owner of the worst flyer in the entire festival. More typos than you could possibly imagine. And a constant source of fun: "Do you think she meant 'see her' instead of 'see ger'?" Nathan was keeping it in his jacket pocket to show to random people. Excellent.
• "Listen to your friend Billy Zane". Quoting Zoolander never gets old.
• Seeing Short Fuse twice, because we forgot to take photos the first time. Even after being reminded several times. Lame!
• Hating the people handing out flyers - Damn you, Poe people!
• "It's so dark in my space"
• The shame of only seeing three shows the entire time we were there. Just the three I mentioned. How bad is that?

So, it was a great long weekend. I was very happy to get back to my bed, and am now ill, but it was totally worth it.

Next time, I think I'll actually try to see some shows. Just an idea.

Stress!

I always feel like the world is going to end if I'm out of the office for more than one day.

It's not like I'm trying to overstate my importance here or anything like that. But when you're the one person in a small company that has a handle on everything that's going on, then leaving can be very stressful. Things can get overlooked, or ignored. People can ignore the detailed notes I leave for them. Programmes can be delivered late. Bad things could happen!

But I need to relax, because I know that nothing terrible is going to happen. And even if it does, I've got my mobile and I'll always be reachable. I'm going to Scotland, after all. It's not exactly the middle of nowhere. And I'm only going to be away for four working days. And I'm entitled to take a holiday, aren't I? People take holidays at inconvenient times all the time! I'm not the only one! And there's always the slight possibility that me not being here will make them realize how truly vital I am to the running of this company and give me a huge pay rise. Hey, stranger things have happened.

Right, though. Sitting here writing about my stress is not helping me get over it. I need to organize here, people! It's time to whip this office into shape!

I'm a student again!

Only not really.

I went to Paddington Station yesterday after work to buy my train ticket to Edinburgh. (I've never traveled on the train here, so this is going to be quite the adventure. Or quite the horrific, overheated, irritating experience - assuming I can trust the stories I've heard.)

Anyhoo, I'd done a bit of research on the internet, and found tickets for the dates I wanted for £66. That was about the maximum of what I could spend, so I was all pleased and stuff.

I get to the station, wait in queue, argue with the man who wanted to skip ahead of me for some silly reason and finally get to the counter. The guy found the tickets for the train I wanted, but they were going to be £98. I made the universal face for oooh, that's more than I was expecting and I really can't afford that, said "thanks" and went to walk away.

The guy asked me how old I was, and if I lived in London, then told me to hold on for a second, did a few more computer related things. He then said that if I went and got a passport sized photo and came back to see him, I could have it for only £80. I did some quick math, figured I could probably afford the extra £14 and said okay.

I find a photo booth, buy a bottle of overpriced train station water so that I have the £3.50 in change required for the machine, reject about seven possible photos before getting frustrated and finally saying okay to one that I wasn't completely happy with because I thought it made my eyes look all big-eye-small-eye and wait for the photos to come out. It turns out that time goes very slowly when you're standing beside an empty photo booth, just waiting. After what felt like forever, I get my photos (which actually looked pretty cute) and went back up to the ticket buying area. That's not what it's really called.

I'm standing in the queue again, and the guy sees me and waves me over to his booth. He gives me a form to fill out, but just tells me to fill out the address part and sign the back. I do, give it back to him, along with the photos and my money. He very carefully cuts them apart and gives me back two of them, keeping two. Apparently one is for him to keep. Creepy? Yes. But he was getting me discount train tickets, so I was willing to let some things slide. He puts the other in a student rail travel card and hands it to me, along with my ticket to Edinburgh and my change. The cost of my ticket? £60. Less than I was planning to pay. But what happened to the other £20, I hear you asking.

Well, I now have a student rail travel card, which entitles me to at least 30% off all train journeys in the UK. And it's valid for a year. And it's been about six years since I was in school. How freaking funny is that?

Sometimes, my life is comedy gold. Gold, I tell you.

I know, I know...

I know. I really should send lengthy emails, detailing the ins and outs of my fascinating life, amusing you with daily antecdotes, horrifying you with facts about the cost of living in London. And I don't.

This is because I am lazy. And (and if you're honest with yourself, you'll admit this is true) it's much harder to write emails when you don't email all the time. Sure, it's easy to write an email saying "On Thursday, I'm going to Scotland with Tim and Sarah". But, you see, you'd be confused. Because you don't know who Tim and Sarah are. In fact, you'd probably be even more confused, what with the thinking "But Tim didn't tell me he was going to Scotland. How odd". Because, you see, there are two Tims. And multiple Sarahs. So, then a relatively short email on the fact that I'm taking a holiday I can't afford turns into a really long one on who all these people are and why I'm going on holiday with them, and why it's such a good deal to spend £10 a night to sleep on someone's floor(It really is a good deal - it's time of year related. Trust me.), and why it's really best that I go now, because I won't be able to take another until November.

So, I'm going to give this a try. And I have high hopes for it working. I'm going to try to update this every day - and since I'm often bored at work, I don't anticipate it being a problem. And you can then comment in the comment section, which should work.

That's all for now. I've got edit schedules to whip into shape, and budgets to organize. But to amuse yourself, you can have a look at this http://www.bravo.co.uk/ and click on Private Stars. That's the programme we've been editing. It starts tonight. I'm making quality television here, people. Quality.