I went on a so-called 'awayday' with Lewes Live Literature yesterday. It wasn't a hugely exciting way to spend a day off work, but at least we got to have it in a pub by a river. The woman who was facilitating for us was very good, although I think she rather despaired of our tendency to chat inconsequentially about haircuts and types of wine instead of addressing our future as a company. That's the trouble with having a board who are all friends, I guess, although it's also our strength. OK, we may not have anyone whose raison d'etre is accounting or employment law, but at least we can have a laugh and we all care about what we're doing.

In the evening I was desperate to hit the beach and have a swim, but I'd already agreed to go to the cinema to see Etre et Avoir. I'm glad I went though, because it was amazingly sweet and moving. Anyone thinking of becoming a teacher - this film will make you think it's the best job in the world. Of course, a tiny country school in the Auvergne is not quite the same as Inner City High... but if only it were. The film did feel oddly voyeuristic sometimes, like when they were filming very young children crying for their mothers, and at other times it was like an arthouse version of Children Say the Funniest Things. But still, in its quiet way, one of the best documentaries I've seen.

10:05

. . .

I spent last night curled up on the sofa watching Anne of Green Gables on DVD and it was just perfect. I remember this series being on TV but only very vaguely - the acting is great! The casting is ideal! Everything looks right! And I cried all the bloody way through. In fact I've only watched half of it and I haven't even got to the sad parts yet... but it's all just poignant and lovely. I loved this book so much when I was a child. It struck me as a defence of the overactive imagination, of losing yourself in books, but it's also about how books can be SOCIAL - Anne and her friends are like a prototype bookgroup!

15:53

. . .

The university changes shape in the summer. The students die off, and now the campus belongs to adults, the 9 to 5 workers who've been here all along, keeping everything ticking over while being rendered invisible by a sea of backpacks and spiky haircuts. But now we're the only ones here, and I have time to notice the mysterious crew I share my train journeys with: the quiet men from library acquisitions, the scruffy boys who sort CDs in the bookshop, the smart women with nebulous jobs in financial accounts and conference hospitality. Of course, our department is busier than ever with English courses in the summer, so the July lull doesn't affect us in the same way... but I wish I knew more about the people that work year round on this campus, doing alien, important things that I never get to see.

10:49

. . .

I spent an alarming part of Sunday on a very high roof. We're not talking a pleasant fenced in terrace here. No, a full band plus equipment and two barbecues were perched on a windy metal platform, while the guests crammed in the remaining space were left to take their chances with the drop... oh to be young and crazy in Brighton in the summer. I did feel a bit like I was in a KFC advert, with tanned young things sprawled in carefree poses, stuffing their faces as they diced with death, soul music blaring out...

Yesterday I also said goodbye to my friend in the North, Sam, who'd been staying for a few days while his mates strutted their stuff in Blood Brothers. I THINK he had a good time. If your idea of entertainment is watching Big Brother and Wimbledon while I fall asleep on the sofa, and hanging around while I buy trousers, then I'm the hostess with the mostest.

11:19

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