I am officially exhausted and I need to take it easy. If I tell you again that I’m bored, smack me over the head and remind me how I felt at the beginning of December 2009.

After the work Christmas party on Wednesday and The Cribs on Thursday, I had every intention of having one or two drinks at Leanne’s farewell on Friday and then going home and spending many hours face down in a coma on my lovely bed in the lair. But then twitter got involved and threw a spanner in the works.

I happened upon a conversation between Frank and Cleo (I think it was) who were discussing playing Wii at Frank’s house. Being completely aware of appropriate social customs, I invited myself and set a snowball rolling that ended with pretty much the entire London NaNo crew in Frank’s beautiful Pimlico flat, attempting and barely managing a reasonable level of quiet and decorum in the face of that much wine.

It turns out that I completely suck at Mario Cart. No one was surprised, least of all me. If you hold the controller upside down, you will drive backwards… it’s just physics. Fortunately I was marginally better at normal Mario and partially redeemed myself.  The party started to slowly dissipate until it ended up with Frank, Ian and I and intentions of making use of public transport no longer viable.

The sensible thing would have been to put the wine down and go to bed at a reasonable hour. Instead we drank the rest of the wine, played more Mario and talked about Pakistan until about 5am. It was brilliant… until I had to get up to go home and make myself look like a human being for a trip to Camden with Frank and Sarah.

People, Lucozade is not a substitute for sleep. You can tell yourself that as much as you want but seriously, at 29, I can’t run on fumes anymore. We attempted to shop and between the three of us bought one pair of tights and a lot of Japanese food. Total shopping FAIL!

The final TGIO NaNo party thereafter was good, although the divide between the two “cliques” is really evident and very defined and it’s somewhat odd to observe. Ben came down briefly with his two adorable daughters. I was overwhelmed by cute like most of the table and we all melted into a fascinated goo. I was lucky enough to get a chance to hold 9 month-old Beth, who took a fancy to my nose ring and had a bit of a play with it before sticking her finger up my nose. Fortunately if you’re that cute, you can get away with most things.

We’d had intentions of going out but everyone was a bit flat and I put the final nail in my own coffin by eating one of the cookies Mai had so kindly brought us from Germany. I have got to start taking my food allergies more seriously and asking people what is in stuff. These were packed with almonds. I instantly felt that horrible, raw, burning sensation I get when I eat things I shouldn’t. The allergies are much worse when I’m rundown and I felt horrible. Home was the only option. By the time I got in, I was already feeling the edges of an impending migraine. Manage to stave it all off with antihistamines, painkillers and a proper night’s sleep, but this is me, admitting defeat. No matter how much I like the stuff I’m allergic to, I can’t eat it anymore and hope for the best. You can’t whine if it’s your own fault.

Today… shopping. I have run out of everything because I barely even grace my own home to sleep anymore.

Last night was my thirty-second and final gig of 2009, which was kind of sad but redeemable since I already have ten booked in for 2010, woot!

Jenn and I went to Brixton Academy to catch The Cribs, supported by Los Campesinos. Just prior to the show starting we were accosted by two guys who seemed to think we were both American. One of them was really sweet but the other made a series of comments that would easily have been considered offensive to Americans and then went on to suggest that South Africa had cheated in the Rugby World Cup and that the coach should be “put to death”. How to lose friends and alienate people, mate.

I haven’t seen the Campensinos before and I know they have a charmingly upbeat sound despite their incredibly bleak lyrics (I cherish with fondness the day before I met you) but I wasn’t prepared for just how many of them there would be onstage. To have that much band chemistry with eight band members is really impressive and their chaotic, yet intricately meshed sound is really arresting. Well, along with Gareth’s fascinating dance moves. Very excited now for the new album.

When The Cribs came on we realised that we had picked the worst possible place to stand. Not only did we seem to be in the thoroughfare but we also attracted a bunch of the most randomly enthusiastic people at the gig who were bouncing off the walls and off us. In the words of a certain Mr Brinkley… NO TOUCHING!!!

The band was fabulous. So much enthusiasm. Ryan was so excited he managed to single-handedly destroy most of his clothes during the set and Ross spent half the show standing on his drum kit playing hunched over. You cannot fault the chemistry between identical twins Ryan and Gary as they switch vocals between the two of them… oh and what a ridiculous honour to see Johnny Marr (of The Smiths and Modest Mouse for those living under a rock) play live. It was a hit-laden belter of a set , that had everyone dancing and singing along and it felt like a very fitting close to a year of total gig insanity. Here’s a little video I did of I’m A Realist.

Last night was my work Christmas Party… sort of. It was more a case of formal staff briefing followed by a free bar but since there isn’t going to be an official shindig this year, I suppose it was the defacto and hence everyone showed up.

Everyone danced, everyone drank. I took photos and realised there is such a thing as too much gin. Although my gin consumption was not aided by the barman who kept giving me triples and continued to serve me for free after the tab had closed. Apparently this was because I have “fabulous breasts” (repeat in heavy Italian accent)… hey he said it not me!

Today I feel like the half-day I took was a genius idea… now I just have to drag myself to work… wish me luck.

Into The Wild
Top student Chris McCandless (Emile Hirsch) gives away his life savings, renames himself Alexander Supertramp and vanishes to hitchhike across America with the plan of taking on Alaska alone and discovering himself and the meaning of life. While Chris’ natural innocent charm and sincerity makes an impact on everyone he encounters, his parents are left puzzled, unaware of how the violence and emotional neglect in his home has left him feeling alienated not only from them but from society in general.  The ultimate conclusion of this true story is heartrending and both the cinematography and Hirsch’s turn as McCandless are beautiful. Must see.

Look, Edward, I know he doesn't look much like you, but I promise you you're the father

Jay And Silent Bob Strike Back
Ah, Jay (Jason Mewes) and Silent Bob (Kevin Smith) so scene-stealingly wonderful in small doses and so absolutely painfully annoying in an entire feature film. The story is absolutely irrelevant this is just a vehicle for dick jokes and endless cameos by actor/director Smith’s friends. Go watch Dogma or Mallrats again instead.

The forums are right, Ben, Daredevil IS one of the worst films ever made

Joe Strummer… The Future Is Unwritten
This documentary about legendary musician, Joe Strummer (most well-known as the front man of punk-pioneers, The Clash) looks at his journey from hippie to punk to techno hippie to man without labels in his desperate desire to bring people together and inspire them to fight for what they believe in. Calling on friends and family as well as Joe’s own radio broadcasts, this is a touching insight into an icon who changed the musical landscape forever.

From a time when rock stars were too cool for colour

John Tucker Must Die
Where does the misogyny bred by romcom’s begin… why in the teen years of course. This little Gossip Girl meets He’s Just Not That Into You debacle, pits a group of scorned teenage girls against the school “player” as they enlist the new girl to help them break his heart like he broke theirs. Ugh… vomit… also with this kind of shiz, you either have to go Skins or High School Musical… there is no inbetween. The “I’m a total slut but in a cute fun way you’d be proud of” thing is disturbing to say the least.

This is the best sex change I've ever seen, you'd never know he used to be in the Pussycat Dolls!

Last night was the last night of NaNoWriMo and the NaNoLondon crew hit Southbank Centre for one last write in. Those who were not quite at the 50k mark worked flat out and many won to a cacophony of applause. The rest of us who were already finished had a grand old time amusing ourselves. Activities included Sarah teaching Frank some stripper moves she learned from a Carmen Electra DVD as well as the famed dance-off, which took place in the big open space in the Royal Festival Hall. I think Sarah and I won but Frank and Ian have different ideas. But I mean who could ever beat Sarah’s crumping and my jiggle?

You be the judge...

Who has the best stripper moves?

We had a bit of an audience. The lovely gentleman in the background of this photo was having a little sleepie on one of the couches shortly before it was taken. Here he is on his way to the ladies toilets.

I'm sure I saw a bathroom here somewhere... ah, that symbol must mean for man in dress

Of course it ended in the pub… where most NaNo events do. Frank taught us a drinking game with counting and hitting your hand on the table, which puzzled everyone, none so much as Ben who claimed to have the mind of Carol Vorderman when it came to numbers… ah tempting fate.

Not long after this the evening went pear-shaped. There was a group of boys in suits for some inexplicable reason, who kept popping over to see what we were doing. One of them, whose name I never caught, took a particular shine to us and plonked himself next to me. When he was ousted by Frank, he decided to tell him in painstaking and repetitive detail about the play he wanted to write about two of his friends who had died in Afghanistan. He was incomprehensible and I have to say I admire Frank for not twatting him on the spot because that was my overriding instinct.

We could not get rid of the kid and he eventually decided to get on the train with me. Frank was adamant that I shouldn’t let him but I figured he was pretty harmless. It is here that I have to admit that Frank was right (enjoy it Brinkley, it won’t last). The kid (whose age varied between 16 and 19 through the night) proceeded to tell me that I was the only woman who understood him and although he slept with “A LOT” of women, I was very special. And then… he tried to kiss me. Fortunately, this was the point that Ian texted me and asked me to let him know if I needed him to call me and I really did. Take a good look people, because this is my hero. He rescued me from a very sticky situation and he rocks the party that rocks the party!

Ian K Ellard... my hero!

NaNoWriMo 2009 has been one of the highlights of my entire time in London and I mean that with absolute sincerity. I’m already counting down to seeing everyone at the closing event on Saturday.

Of course none of any of this would have been even vaguely possible without Jenn and Claire from the bottom of my heart and the hearts of everyone who came to the write-ins and felt the awesome love from the group… ONE MILLION, BILLION THANK-YOUS!

Found what I could on Spotify… enjoy!

Someday, The Strokes– Makes me want to do a stupid dance around my room plus it sounds like it was recorded in a tin can

Where Did Our Love Go, Soft Cell– So charmingly, melancholically Nu Wave… oh and Marc Almond, what a voice!

Bloodless Coup, Sweet Billy Pilgrim– I can’t big this band up enough. Folk genius!

Play Crack The Sky , Brand New– I always end up with one wailing Brand New, song-to-cut-your-wrists-to

L.A. Woman, The Doors – I got this stuck in my head at a write-in and just ended up muttering Mr Mojo rising to myself over and over again

G.I.N.A.S.F.S., Fall Out Boy – The closing lyrics for my novel. Ties in particularly well with what the title stands for. Look it up.

Diamond On A Landmine, Billy Talent – Another one that stuck in my head. Billy Talent are the kings of chorus

Vienna, Ultravox – I want to go back to the 80’s… where I BELONG!

The Captain, Biffy Clyro – Watch the video. It will all make sense. Simon, I love you. Oh and the intro… siiiiigh… duhn duhn duhn wooooo!

March Into The Sea, Modest Mouse – All wonderfully atmospheric and weird… which is to be expected cos it’s Modest Mouse

The Future Freaks Me Out, Motion City Soundtrack – Mostly MCS are just generic pop-punk but when they’re good, they’re goooood!

Crush’d, Say Anything – Yet to be released in the UK so you have to stream this on MySpace but once again Max Bemis has written a love song so personal and heartfelt that I want someone to sing it to me!

Yesterday I headed out with some of the London NaNoWriMo crew… and Emily, who is the perfect companion for most things on the first ever *drum roll* NANORILLA! To give you some context, Nanorilla was conceptualised by Jenn and Claire as a guerrilla (hence the rilla) writing event where we would go around central London, visiting some iconic spots and then sit down to write in short bursts, someone mentioned the idea of doing it for charity, I jumped on the bandwagon and suggested we added it to my Barnardo’s effort, Frank named it Nanorilla, everyone tweeted themselves stupid and voila… joyful chaos.

We started on the steps of St Paul’s, which was pretty awesome, since, although I have lived in London for five and a half years now, I’ve never been there. The twitter crew was very lucky since Jenn and Claire had made us signs. This is mine. It has a cello on it because the protagonist in my novel plays the cello.

And this is Ian’s. How fricking awesome is his hat?

From there we thought we might just pop into Starbucks, because it was so cold and windy that everyone’s typing/scribbling hands were seizing up. It was clearly a place of creativity because this is where Frank invented the concept of stick novels: a whole plot handily written on the back of a wooden coffee stirrer. Mine were intensely crap but some of the group were awesome at it, Mai’s Nabokov inspired controversial stick novel being particularly impressive. Look how excited Sarah is about the stick novel she’s reading!

By the time we got to the Tate Modern, Emily, Mai and I were so cold that we bought hats. Anyone who knows me will know that I’m a bit hat phobic, not only because of hair destruction but because hats make me feel claustrophobic, but in this situation it was absolutely essential. Mine has earflaps and a bobble. I might even wear it again. We went to see Miroslaw Balka’s How It Is, which was very cool and very strange… and no I did not cheat by lighting my path with my sonic screwdriver… okay maybe a little bit.

This is also where we took on A Day In Hand for Sshh! A Day In Hand looks at the fact that it’s still socially unacceptable in some places for gay couples to hold hands in public and so on a Day In Hand, people like us, who believe this is absolutely ridiculous show our protest by holding hands with people of the same sex, no matter if we’re gay or straight. Em and I held hands for a while. I didn’t think anyone would notice or care, so I was pretty shocked by some of the looks we got. Made me very sad, but anyway, here is a fabulous shot of Ben and Frank’s hand holding efforts.

This was followed by possibly the best guerrilla writing spot we found, an alcove on a bridge that fitted all of us perfectly. Sadly, I don’t know which bridge it was, but it was a nice one. Several tourists stopped to wave, stare… and take pictures. One lady, in particular, insisted that we all look up and pose and became annoyed when we got distracted by actual writing.

A drink in Covent Garden was followed by the pub, where much rubbish was spoken, more stick novels were written, Jay wore Lindsey’s coat, I tried unsuccessfully to keep my Bowie’s out of Ian’s face, many people tried on Sarah’s hat, Frank failed to stop us from touching him and the dance-off was discussed at length but never happened.

And in all that we raised just over £70 for Barnardo’s… RAWK!!!! Thank-you so much, guys! If anyone from Nanorilla wants the log in for my blog, please message me and I’ll send it to you and if anyone else still wants to donate, you can do so here.

What happens when you put thirteen women in a room, give them alcohol and allow them to try on a lot of beautiful lingerie? Carnage, that’s what!

Last night I was the host of an Ann Summers party at the former Playboy Mansion. For those who don’t know, Ann Summers is a lovely shop that sells gorgeous underwear as well as some more… um… adult items. Along with the stores they also have a successful business doing home “parties”. It’s the Tupperware party of the noughties.

In order to be in the right frame of mind for such an event, one must drink. So having recently rekindled my love affair with gin, I went to buy a bottle (which, I must mention, fell out of my handbag on the bus while sitting next to an old lady who was already glaring at me for daring to be young-ish), only to find during some cleaning up, that there was already half a bottle in the cupboard. I briefly reconsidered my opinions on the existence of a higher power.

It also seemed perfectly reasonable to make some themed cakes… as you do… when you’re Abbi. So I made these:

After our lovely hostess had shown us her wares, to a series of oohs and ahs, we decided it was only fair to try on the outfits. Cue screaming and running up and down the stairs while everyone checked out and complimented each other’s choices. Fortunately or us, and for him, Wilhelm had gone out by this point.

Orders came thick and fast an I want to thank the crew for buying enough stuff to get me over £60 of freebies. I’m not telling you what I bought… that’s classified.

With all the pent-up energy, it seemed that the only solution was to go out and dance. We briefly popped into Bar 366 but it was deader than Jedward’s music career, so there was only one alternative… you guessed it… The Puzzle. Being a group of hyperactive semi-tipsy girls, we were an unsurprising hit with the men folk in The Puzzle and had much fun dancing like lunatics with our hands over our heads. I might even have thrown a shape to Living On A Prayer, oh the shame! Despite the fact that we had sworn to only have one or two drinks, we found ourselves back in Bar 366 until the lights eventually cam on sending us blinking and confused into the night.

This must be done again… oh yes… this must be done again!

Whenever I see Fabio, I wonder why on earth we waited so long to see each other because I really do love his company and his ability to turn even a couple of drinks into an adventure.

We started in the George where it didn’t take long for the conversation to become focused on dark, emotional gossip… and fashion. He approved of my accidental new hairstyle (my fringe is now so long that I can’t see so I put in a big side parting one day and brushed it to the side and voila everyone thinks I’ve had my hair cut and I can see where I’m going) and my new glasses… although he agrees with the idea of getting some vintage 50’s frames and he knows a place. SCORE! I rate Fabio’s style approval pretty happy so that put a smile on my face. Who can’t admire a boy who’s turned his broken jeans into a fashion statement by replacing the button with a yale lock.

We headed to Abeno for dinner where I realised that I had been missing out on the wonder of okonomiyaki for 29 years. Why did NO ONE tell me about this! It’s this glorious Japanese omelette made of cabbage, egg, dough and bits of tempura batter with a filling mixed in… prawn, squid, pork, tofu, etc…. absolutely gorgeous and all cooked in front of you on a hot flat griddle. Just another reason to add to my ever-increasing desire to go to Japan.

And then The Chandos and finally, well Village, because where do you go on a weeknight in Soho… a gay bar, of course. The karaoke was a bit special though and so we decided it was time to call it a night.

Today… I am chilling… well for now. I’m kind of thinking of making some white chocolate brownies… and I have a write-in to run…

When I took on NaNoWriMo, I’ll admit that I was less than enthusiastic. It wasn’t my idea… it was more of a sustained wearing away of my resistance by Saoirse and Jen. I didn’t think I was going to enjoy it…  hell I really didn’t think there was much chance I’d finish something so ridiculously fast-paced since I normally do about 1,000 words a week…

I didn’t count on the London NaNoWriMo group… it was Saoirse who convinced me to go to the original launch gathering… and then couldn’t make it. While there on my own it was the few people there who weren’t um… completely “interesting” who convinced me that I should come to a write-in.  Again I wasn’t sold on the idea.  A group of people in the same room writing together in silence… weird right? Except in that first session I nailed almost 3,000 words and suddenly I was surrounded by people who not only felt my pain and understood my general weird creative spirit but who were also uber-supportive of each other’s attempts to win NaNo and see their project through.

I got hooked… like seriously hooked and I fell in love with EVERYONE. The write-ins became the highlight of my week and the idea of missing one almost sacrilegious. Who could fail with so many cheerleaders?

I finished my novel I Love Everything About You That Hurts (which you can read online by sponsoring me here) a week ahead of schedule… all 50,000 words of it but there is no way I would have gotten anywhere near the word count without my support group… so Jenn, Claire, Sarah, Ben, Frank, Melanie, Ian, Lindsey, Liz, Cleo, Jay (especially Jay who gets to listen to me talk total shit on the train on the way home 3 times a week) and everyone else who pops in and out… if by some bizarre miracle there suddenly ends up being a massive market for tragic. teenage semi-homoerotic young adult fiction and someone publishes my pile of slush (once I redraft it and it’s actually in English)… it’ll be dedicated to all of you. And for those of you who aren’t finished… DO NOT GIVE UP… or you won’t get one of these (and yes to the non-NaNo’s this is the only prize and I had to type in my own name):

Now that I Love Everything About You That Hurts is in the “decompress and then edit” pile, I am using the rest of the time left in November to work on Lucy Gray, which is my other novel that’s been on a backburner for about a year. I am newly creatively revitalised and I feel like I’m back in the game.

Although I can’t quite avoid this feeling of impending doom in the face of the realisation that it will be over soon. I’m hoping to keep as many people as possible interested in keeping the group working together creatively… or at the very least harassing each other constantly on Twitter.

But before all of that, Saturday marks the first inaugural Nanorilla (so named by Frank himself) which is some kind of bizarre guerrilla writing/flash mob hybrid. We’ll be travelling around central London writing in iconic places and freaking out the tourists and best of all raising some more money for Barnardos. I can’t wait…