Turns out that two summer jobs and one smallish part in a play might be too much for one boy to handle; I'm already feeling a little worn out.

I've come to rather despise the weekend.

She doesn't even begin to know what a mistake she's making.

The date's getting closer, and yet I'm not nervous in the slightest.

Mum's threatening to come by the flat: Harry, we need to clean --a lot. I'm terrified already.

Did I miss when everyone went completely nutters?