As though I am going to be going to a children's birthday party (as a child, you understand, not as an adult gatecrasher and eater-of-jelly) I am a mixture of nerves and excitement. I ought to have grown out og this. Ever so often my hand strays to my head and tears-plucks-pulls a little more hair from my head. But I feel fairly lighthearted about it tonight. I think perhaps the combination of coffee and wine has helped. But, as the friend who is doing something to a peice of wood with a knife out of the corner of my eye has pointed out - I don't really want to be doind it. The tearing-plucking-pulling not the party, that is.
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