Okay, in total contrast to what I said in an earlier entry, I have not yet returned to my regular blogging schedule.

The reason is this: while I am very much enjoying my life right now, it's very much the same old stuff every week. Work from nine til five every day. Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays with Jason. Occasionally I spend the night at his. And when something different does happen, a-la-Wales Comic Con, I'm usually too tired from the normal routine to do any sort of write-up about it.

This needs to change. My journal, one of the things I'm most fond of; the longest piece of writing I've ever done and indeed the longest project I remain held to, is suffering. My novels and artwork, too. On three days of the week, I'm busy from nine in the morning until almost midnight.

So how should I remedy this problem? Quit my job and miss out on those two more months of experience I could glean from it? I wouldn't just lose that - I'd most likely be sanctioned by the Job Centre and that would mean farewell income for the next few months. Do I stop spending as much time with Jason? To do so would break my heart - and with me going to Ireland in a few months, every moment I get with him is more precious than my life.

No. What I need to start doing is start making productive use of my dead time. There are bus rides and moments in work where I find myself thumb-twiddling. Lunch hours where I could escape the office for a bit, find a bench and scribble. I can even dedicate an hour or two when I get back from being with Jason. And this is all without weekends entering the equation.

Ideally, I'd like to dedicate three hours to my novel every day. But I can sink as low as two for now, until I'm in Ireland and I won't be able to spend as much time with Jason. I think I'll need the novel more when I'm over there, anyway, as distraction from how much I'll be missing him and everyone else.

So here I am, and journalling. What can I waffle about?

I've finally plucked up the courage to ask Dad if Jason can come over next Sunday. It's Holly's annual charity walk and he's coming along for that anyway, so I thought it might be nice if he could come back here afterwards.

The problem? Our house is a tip. My room is probably the best looking and it's an absolute mess. So we have a week to get things sorted out.

This wouldn't be a problem ordinarily... only my family has a cataclysmic tendency to leave everything to the very last minute, as some of you have probably already guessed. Organised families might so a room a day - mind you, organised families wouldn't have this problem in the first place.

I did a lot of work on my room yesterday. There's still bits here and there that need doing, of course, but all my clothes are hung up and my floor isn't anywhere near as cluttered. My desk is still full of stray objects that need moving, however, and there are still things on the windowledge that our rewirers last month moved to do their work.

I can have it all done today. Then I just need to consider all the stuff I've got in the living room; bags and folders and stuff I usually take out to work.

The house doesn't need to be clinically tidy. An immaculate house is divine, yes, but divinity is boring and inhuman. I personally like me some clutter. It shows a place is lived in; gives it some soul. Just so long as there's space to walk and you don't have mice nesting in the A-Level English Literature coursework drafts you left to mature beside the couch...

Another thing at the very top of my to-do list is the drawings for the garden I was supposed to design ages ago for Broad Oak Manor Nursing Home. I'm meeting Vicky (as in my Prince's Trust Team Leader) in Cafe Nero tomorrow to show her what I've done - or what I will have done after a flask of espresso and an all-nighter tonight.

See what I mean? Last minute. Le sigh.

The garden will be on a 'vintage seaside' theme. You know, like the old postcards you used to get decades ago - which, according to a quick search on Google Images, are mostly lewd. So I've put together a compilation of images after searching for pictures of Blackpool, Brighton, vintage seasides, things like helter skelters and carousels and Blackpool Rock, striped deck chairs and buckets and spades... all the quintessentially British seaside stuff.

Because many of the residents at Broad Oak Manor Nursing Home have some degree of dementia, it would be nice to have something that stimulates their senses with bright colours and reminds them of bygone days, trekking to the seaside with their families on one of the rare sunny days. Something to remind them of Blackpool before it was all drunken people getting naked in the street (I've seen this countless times), cross-dressing men in Burger King (again, a true story) and confectionery in the shape of various body parts.

Ah, Blackpool. So tacky, yet so amusing! The touristy part, anyway. Away from the sea and the frivolity it's pretty much like any other town - but the normal bits aren't what people go for. If you're visiting, you definitely see some amusing things...

In a way, I wish Jason had gone to Exeter for his interview a few days sooner so I could have an extra day to myself to get this project done. He's got the train tickets now and he's going tomorrow, so the next time I see him will be Wednesday. So while I have Monday evening to myself, it's too late for me to have any extra time for this project. Ah well.

Anyway, that's what I can think to waffle about on this bland, rainy Sunday. I think I'll go and finish tidying my room now, perhaps read a bit and do some work on this review for the latest Lancashire Hotpots album for the Star.