Monday Monday… life sure is a surprise. After 15 years my father has just e-mailed me. Where he got my address I don’t know although I suspect my pointless sister in Canada. And now he wants to open up a dialogue. What a cunt. Actually it's quite interesting to discover he is alive.

I've decided to have a house-warming party. I know it’s an error. But I’m a bit bored and need the distraction of 30 drunk bastards walking in my flowerbeds and fighting over which of my shitty CDs to play.
Actually I was going to have an intimate dinner/braai but I know my parties fuck enemabag off so it’s worth it for bastard value alone.

And Paula Radcliffe?
Didn’t it occur to her that it might have been a good idea to do some training actually in Greece? Good fucking God woman, now get back to the fucking kitchen.