Today on a break from work I was walking through University Parks in the baking heat cursing my life-long obsession with black clothes and not suiting any other colour when I saw some Goths flaking out by the river. They were literally gasping for air, the poor loves. I realized that what with The Greenhouse Effect and summer starting in April and lasting until November these days, Goths are going to be a dying breed. They will literally perish in their own blackness - you just can't wear black in the sun. You die. This is a very scary thought. Not only are many species of animal and plant dying out because of the destruction of natural habitat and climate issues connected to global warming, now GOTHS ARE IN DANGER TOO! This is almost worse. Even if you have never seen the attraction with Goths, you have to admit - if we are all forced to wear light and pastel shades and basically blend into the sun life is going to be very dull. If we're all going to become bland then kill me now. I feel it is time to take my monthly payments to Friends of the Earth a bit more seriously. I may even read their magazine next month instead of putting it straight in the recycling bin....

On a brighter note, I walked past a guy today who was wearing a pink trainer and a green trainer. This made me smile. Also I had a chocolate Mini Milk for the first time in years (still only 25p!!) and this also made me smile because it looks a lot like you're sucking a poo on a stick. Lovely.

Whilst chatting to Phill tonight I came to a momentous realization about myself. I have pognophobia! No, it's not what you think...check this out! Pognophobia Yes, that's right phobia fans (!!!) BEARD PHOBIA is a recognized condition!! I think it's connected to my rather tense relationship with my father who has a beard and also a bit to do with my hygiene obsession and generally not liking the taste of hair! Poor Phill, I think he shaved his beard off this week as a result of my beard phobia-inspired comments last weekend (namely 'shave it off, it's horrible' or something along those lines...actually I wasn't quite THAT mean. I'm not a complete bitch!) but he did ask me quite a few times what I thought of the beard and for some reason my acting skills escaped me and I couldn't lie. He could sense my fear. There's just no lying when faced with a massive beard and a beard phobia.

What a fucking shocker....!


Wow! You are a huge HIM-fan! You know the lyrics
and you probably have a couple (or all) of
their albums. They are the best band ever! And
you KNOW that damn well!


Do you know EVERYTHING about the Finnish band HIM?
brought to you by Quizilla

Sleeping pills. I could shag them, marry them, have their children, stand by them through bankruptcy and nurse them through terminal illness I am so grateful to them, but that's another story. This week I have been mostly listening to The Rasmus - the Bon Jovi of Finnish Goth music - and recovering from last week which was really hard. So here's a brief summary of last week without going into too much personal detail....pregnancy, terminal illness, unrequited love, anxiety, period pains, fabulous career in retail. In all the confusion I accidentally downloaded a Will Young track from the internet. I really like it. Bugger. Plus Squib recorded me a HIM documentary off MTV at the weekend but unfortunately the sound doesn't work on it. This isn't really a problem, afterall - my love of HIM is largely a visual one. Let's face it. I'm not going to lie like those men that pretend they buy Playboy for the 'articles'. I love the music, the sentiment, the romance. But more importantly: hello sailer....Anyway, this is not the problem, the problem is that in the absence of sound on this HIM documentary my mind starts playing tricks on me. Therefore what is happening in reality is this: a documentary is playing on my TV about the making of a music video by a band that has nothing to do with me. In my world what is happening is Bam Magera is talking to Ville V and saying 'So Ville, you've a bit thin and pale - what's up?' and Ville is saying, 'I have a broken heart, I'm pining, I'm in love with a small- dark haired girl from England who cannot travel due to mental health issues...Katy - stop watching this video and fly to Finland to be my bride and drink from my luscious lips and feed my soul with your kisses and I can cure you...' Which as you can imagine, is very confusing for me. I'm not actually schizophrenic, I just have my moments. I need to do one of two things - one is get a copy of the video with sound and the other is get a life. It may be easier to get the video with sound......

Another bizarre event that happened this weekend was that Phill came to visit me and as I was showing him around Oxford we came across (it was THAT exciting) a country/morris dancing type display with about 6 teams of dancers celebrating what Squib tells me is not known as the fertility weekend but as something else I can't remember that sounds like this. It's a flower that comes into season at this time of year, very important in English folk law - look it up. This is funny because I am always trying to dispell the myth that Oxfordshire is just one big morris dance convention - how can I do this if there keeps being displays of this kind every time the sun comes out?! It's a bit like the time my mate Dave came to stay and as we were driving into our village and he was expressing how he felt like he was in the middle of no where and going back in time and we were trying to convince him otherwise a sodding horse and cart went past! Trying to convince Dave that this NEVER happens and that he wasn't in a time warp back to the 19th century was very hard after that. I think Phill liked Oxford though, he even managed to get a woman fired up about table football in 'Oxford's No 1 Rock Pub'! Plus there were rowers practising on the river for possibly next years boat race and he got to see where Inspector Morse was filmed which is basically everywhere, so hopefully he went home a happy brummy bunny! I am considering jacking in my 'marvellous career in retail' to become a tour guide. I quite like it. Plus people believe you when you tell them things (that's where Thom Yorke got his first blow job...etc) which doesn't happen to me very often.

Ah, how I love seeing old friends and catching up....long pause. So I get into my friend E's car today and I haven't seen him in like, four months and I'm all ready to hug the wee gay bastard and say, 'hey, dude - long time no squeeze etc' and he looks at me sternly and says, 'you're into Wicca aren’t you? You've been practicing Wicca! I can tell. You can't fool me. I know when someone's been dabbling in the occult, I can smell it like a 2 month old piece of Edam trapped behind a radiator in July. You witch. You Wicca loving wee Witch you!' Which obviously wasn't the greeting I was expecting, but hey - I've had worse. I decided to let it pass. After all, if he kept it up I could always cast a spell on him later. So E is silent as he negotiates between the rocks on my lane and says nothing as I chat to R in the back and then interrupts us at the end of my village to shout at me, 'do you eat PORK?!' To which, R gets an attack of the giggles and I discreetly reach into my bag for a comforting fondle of my pepper-spray. 'No' I say gently, 'I don't eat pork', thinking, 'oh my God, what's wrong with him?!! What's the matter? Why does he not remember anything about me?' and E says, 'so you don‘t eat sausages, you don‘t like the taste of sausage?!' disgust dripping from every orifice. 'No' I meekly manage to say, close to tears. 'Not really' and E begins to drive erratically bombing 70mph through villages and zooming up behind other drivers to almost the point of impact. And I'm thinking, I know some people don't understand Vegetarians but trying to kill me in a terrible car crash seems like a rather extreme way of dealing with the issue...until he suddenly screeches to a halt as I'm telling R about an attractive male friend of mine that I think she would get on with, and says, 'Ha! So you do like men?! But just not BIG men - didn't you once say that you really didn't like BIG men?! Weren't you once disgusted at the thought of a BIG man?!' And suddenly everything becomes clear. All his strange behaviour. I haven't seen the guy in four months and the whole time he has been seething over a misunderstanding!! I remember the conversation. R had just gone shopping with E for jeans, she was telling me - one pair was too tight, E comes out to show her - hello Mr Trouser Snake! On hearing about R's introduction to E's family jewels, I expressed mock horror, E has obviously taken this as real horror. This is all about him thinking I don't like the sound of his manhood! How revoltingly not the case. What can I do to make this up to him?! I can only think of one thing, but he's gay, he won't appreciate it - plus due to a spinal defect I have limited jaw opening, it'll never work. So instead I take him to a hideously expensive hotel and pay for lunch. E has pork and I am nearly sick when I see the bill. So I say to him, ‘E, mate - what was with all that ‘so you do like men Wicca’ stuff earlier on?’ And E says, ‘Witch, Lesbian - what’s the difference?’ And I say, ‘well quite a lot really but more to the point - do you think I’m either of these things?’ And he says with a wicked glint in his eye, ‘I’m still deciding’. Hmmm. It was the perfect end to an emotionally charged week. I need to lie down.

Today I had the misfortune of working with Hitler reincarnated. Hitler's name is now Janine and (s)he is a South African fasion designer so horrible I'm not going to disguise her identity on this board by changing her name. I only wish I could remember her surname so that if she ever searched for herself on google then she would get through to this webpage and read that I hate her and I hope she dies a slow painful death in a boiling tank of electric eels and Michael Bolton's greatest hits on loop just out of her reach. She was so mean to me that I lost all grip on myself and became a nervous wreck with no redeeming features or any scrap of confidence. This is surprisingly easily done. I always thought as I got older I would get more confident, less self-conscious, more at ease with myself. (Insert Family Fortunes 'Wrong' noise here) Not so, quite the opposite. Everything has got worse. Oh well. Some people make you question everything about your validity as a human being and this is not a good thing and these are not good people. If I've learnt anything at all in my life it's how to run, run like the wind, run like you've never run before away from these people. Not always easy though if you are stuck in a shop the size of a broom cupboard with them on cover that no one else can do, with 6 hours left of your shift and you have lost the use of your limbs because you are so traumatised from being shouted at. Plus the fact that you never run, ever and may not know how to do it if you had to. I have to escape retail, it's so bad for the soul....

And we're off...the first wedding of the photography season and it was a traditional Scottish affair, complete with kilted men and their furry sporans and bagpipes blasting everytime you moved. The woman playing the bagpipes looked like one of the crankies, I would have found this funny but I was too distressed at having to look both smart (something I rarely am) and professional and thin all in one go. Exhausting. The vicar was very sweet but at one point as we were waiting for the bride to arrive I saw him eyeing me up nervously. These religious types can smell an atheist a mile off I tell you, also I had forgotten to cover up my horns. Note to self - disguise Satanic leanings whilst at work as a wedding photographer - it may affect business. But all went well, no lighting struck me down during the ceremony and everyone escaped unharmed. Except for the bride and groom who are now of course, MARRIED. Shudder. The formal pics went well except it's very difficult trying to organize Scottish people as they all look the same! I'm not being prejudiced, you try deciphering one kilted man from another - it's not easy. But I was very good and the groom didn't seem to mind too much when I asked him if he minded that at his own wedding he had made the blunder of wearing the same outfit as his brothers, his best man, the ushers, the page boys and his own father. The day was slightly like a step back in time though as it was held in my village church with many a person I went to primary school with (the bride being one of them), and the reception was held at a cricket pavilion in a near by village where I used to go to nursery school. It was weird being in both places as more likely than not, the last time I was in the cricket pavilion at nursery school I was probably in a complete state of panic and crying as was most of my nursery school experience and the last time I was in the church was probably at some school harvest festival thing and I was probably in a complete state of panic and being sick (I had a habit of being sick in churches when I was a child, I think I had decided my views on organized religion quite early on). Anyway, I am now all dressed up with no where to go as we have decided not to go back to the reception and take pictures of the drunken uncles trying to dance due to Squib not feeling well. This is no great loss to my life, with about 14 more weddings to go this summer, I'm sure there'll be plenty more chances for those sorts of shots.

Have just spent the afternoon pretending to be people for my friend Jenny who needs some interviews for an application for a broadcast journalism course. I did exactly the same thing a few years ago when another friend of mine worked for local radio and couldn't be bothered to actually go out onto the street or do research to find people to talk about certain things. Also I had to ring up and enter competitions on air and win them so they wouldn't have to actually give prizes away. Local Radio is corrupt I tell you. People often do this - 'Ah ha - you've got a drama degree, you'll be able to speak in character on the spot with one seconds preparation! Ok, I need you do be a Belgian Fisherman with one leg, a nervous twitch and a crush on Michael Flattly...GO!' And my motivation for this is?....Anyway, this afternoon I was firstly an arts event organizer, then I was a post worker, then I was someone who hates global organizations such as McDonald's/Sainsburys (ok, THAT one was easy, that was basically me) and then I was the owner of a local tanning salon (complete with East London accent and no brains/morals) and then I was someone who was really tired and fed up and wished I was being paid for my efforts. Ok that last one really was me. Anyway, J was very appreciative and said I should do this for a career. I wonder if there is an opening for people to pretend to be real people for journalists? This could be a whole new section in The Stage classified ads!

I would just like to initiate a minute of silence for my friend Tara who has just confessed to me that she has been really getting into Meatloaf recently. It's a sad day at SKC. Once a cool rock chick, now it has come to this.

Hello everyone. I would like to take some time to draw your attention to the fact that it is yet again annual Adopt A Goth Week. The plight of abandoned and neglected Goths is often over looked by society in general. Some are not even aware there is a problem but LET ME TELL YOU NOW there are millions, nay, thousands of disadvantaged Goths out there, roaming the cemeteries without proper hair extentions and easy access to eye liner. It is a heart wrenching sight to see Goths that have been thrown out onto the streets by their owners because they become too big to handle. There is a darkness at the end of the coffin though - The Battersea Goth's Home, a refuge for abandoned Goths, where they can be cared for and then re-homed or released back into the their natural habitat (the european metal section of HMV) safely. Remember - if you see one roaming the streets looking pale and under nourished - you have a choice - either contact me directly (I always have room for one more) or take them to your local RSPG drop in centre. Or even better: do your bit for the dark side this week - adopt a Goth.

Argh - don't ever put yourself through the emotionless, souless and indeed damn boring ordeal that is Le Divorce - from now on just looking at Naomi Watts is going to send me into a deep hypnotic sleep. I haven't seen anything so anti-European since the last episode of Sex And The City. Quite disappointing seeing as the team behind it is Merchant Ivory and James Ivory is the director. Here's the emotionless plot - Naomi Watt's husband walks out on her. She doesn't seem to mind. Kate Hudson her sister comes to stay, she doesn't seem to mind either. Naomi Watt's husband gets a new girlfriend, no one seems to mind, especially not Kate Hudson who upon meeting them out one day treats her like an old friend. Then they decide to get a divorce, Naomi Watts doesn't seem to mind even though she is pregnant with his child and he has a new girlfriend. Then her parents call but don't seem to mind either and are more concerned about some painting. Then Kate Hudson is suddenly in bed with a guy with Robert Smith's hair who she doesn't seem to give a shit about because she then decides to have an affair with some old bloke but doesn't seem to care that much about him either. Then his wife meets her and doesn't seem to mind that they're having an affair. Then suddenly from no where Naomi Watts tries to kill herself probably because she is so bored but recovers damn quickly and no one seems to mind. Then I gave up watching cos I didn't really mind what happened to any of the characters either. The end.

I'm in a world of Black Books at the moment after borrowing the first two series on dvd from my friend Stuart and then watching them all night. It's the perfect sitcom to accompany insomnia. The only thing stopping me slipping into a bleak, dark place in the middle of the night and never returning. What's everyone's favourite episode? I found that I'd forgotton loads of them but everyone always remembers the episode when Manny gets locked in the shop and has to live on a diet of roast bees with the aid of an SAS survival manual. I think if I'm not careful in a few years I could turn into Bernard. It's a good job I don't get the chance to drink very often, it can only be a matter of time.

Anyway, I want to thank everyone who emailed back their answers to that little survey I sent them. It's fascinating. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about - the survey was sent to me by my friend Tara. All the questions are about you, you get to find out some interesting things about what people first thought when they saw you and also how well your friends know you. I was really surprised to find the large amount of my friends who weren't sure if I believed in God or not, this was kinda cool cos sometimes I worry that I'm a bit too anti-religion. But obviously not! I'm obviously nicer than I thought I was! Also it's really cool to send your answers about your friends back to them, gets you thinking about what your first impressions of them were and how well you know them too. For anyone wanting to send the survey to their friends then copy and paste it from here....

THIS IS A SURVEY WITH A TWIST - YOU fill in the blanks about ME and send it back to ONLY ME. But FIRST, send a BLANK one to all your friends, including ME, so they can return the favor to YOU. BE HONEST!!! They're really cool to get back. You might find something you missed before.

1. My name:
2. Where did we meet?
3. Take a stab at my middle name?
4. How long have you known me?
5. When is the last time we saw each other?.
6. Do I smoke?
7. Do I believe in God?
8. When you first saw me what was your impression?
9. Month of my Birthday?
10. Color hair?
11. Color eyes?
12. Do I have any siblings?
13. What's one of my favorite things to do outdoors?
14. What's one of my favorite things to do indoors?
15. Do you remember one of the 1st things I said to you?
16. What's my favorite type of music?
17. What is the best feature about me?
18. Am I shy or outgoing?
19. Would you say I am funny ha-ha or funny or sarcastic?
20 Am I a rebel or do I follow all the rules?
21. Would you consider me a friend, an acquaintance, or a good friend?
22. Would you call me hippie, glam, nerdy, snobby, hippie or something else?
23. Have you ever seen me cry?
24. If there were one good nickname for me what would it be?
25. If I had broccoli stuck in my teeth would you tell me?

I think I could definitely come up with an even more interesting quiz though....I'll see if I can think of some more soul-searching questions and post them here.