No. of entries in my blog - 19
No. of gorgeous women I've had encounters with in the blog - 7
No. of days left to sort myself out before I see H, J and L - 1
No. of packs of Prozac smuggled out of the hospital - 24 (you can never be 'too happy')
No. of red Porsches parked in the hospital car park - 100% (If all red Porsche drivers are crazy, maybe I shouldn't lust after one any more??)

It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the Prozac has kicked in, and I've said a reluctant goodbye to my 'second home'. (Don't worry, I've asked Caley to book me in for a small 'relapse' just before Christmas).

My first port of call was to pick up my bus pass, which apparently you have to do in person from a council office near Tower Bridge. It was almost closing time when I got there, but luck was on my side. As I exited, I realised that I was within walking distance of the Oxo Tower. Could this be a coincidence, or was it fate? Fate or not, a drink sounded like a good idea, so I headed up to the Terrace Bar, thinking that Milano might be on duty, which would cheer me up. As I stood there with my Diet Coke in my hand, a vision of loveliness appeared before me. It was Chelsea, telling me how thrilled she was to see me after all this time. Once I had made sure that it wasn't just a side effect of the Prozac, and/or the Diet Coke hadn't been spiked, I heard the whole story. She was mortified to hear that she had blanked me the previous week - she blamed it on being riotously drunk, as usual, and took a vow on the spot to become teetotal if only I would forgive her.

Well, dear readers, what can I say? I may have lost my dignity, my mind and my car, but I got the girl, with only 1 day to spare before my official birthday. (It will certainly be one in the eye for those 3 at dinner tomorrow night - I bet they won't believe how exciting my life has been for the last few weeks).

No of sexy nurses - 25 (this now includes the nightshift)
No. of impure thoughts - 783Dozens (all about the nurses and Chelsea)
No. of prescription drugs taken - 2 (Viagra & Cealis)
No. of times it actually was of any use - ain´t gonna tell you

I have had a ball of a time, this should become my offical 2nd address, I have been pampered, bathed by Caley (twice), was served coffee in the conservatory - this is heaven on earth.

Still my mind wonders what I will do tomorrow - I believe that I will not be able to hit the big birthday without solving the 2 things that are most on my mind.
1. has Chelsea really forgotten me
2. where do I get my free bus pass for London since I have hit that big age almost ?

Haven't really figured out which one has priority, but since I have no car, it seems easy.

Probably will need to decide tomorrow morning what to do, but until then will make use of the nice services they offer here. Oh nurse Caley could you please bring me some more of those nice drugs and I urgently need another bath ...........

No of sexy nurses - 5 (and the nightshift haven't even arrived yet!!)
No. of impure thoughts - Dozens (mostly about the aforementioned nurses)
No. of official nervous breakdowns diagnosed - 1
No. of hours of worked - 0
No. of rather nice yellow pills that make me feel very, very nice - 2 every 4 hours

Hello from the Sunshine Towers Resthome. I've been assessed, and they have apparently decided that I'm 'confused and emotional from overwork' rather than barking mad, so it means that I've been assigned to a minimum security room. This is the best thing that's happened to me in months - a nice room, great food, free drugs, no work, and lots of gorgeous nurses. I wonder how long I'll be able to spin this out for? I've even received an official bouquet from BP, with a personalised 'hurry back' message from the boss. (As a sufferer from mental illness, I'll be sure to give him at least double points in his diversity score).

My favourite nurse is definitely the lovely Nurse Caley, a Celtic beauty with a twinkle in her eye and (I've been told) a particular skill in bed baths. Perhaps I could pretend to be bedridden tomorrow?

In fact, the only thing that's spoiling this idyllic situation is that, whenever the yellow pills start to wear off, I find my mind straying back to that awful night at the Oxo Tower. Chelsea, have you really forgotten me????

Well, I've had a few hours sleep, and at least 12 showers, but I don't think I've quite recovered from the nightmare of incarceration. (Must remember to be suitably grovelling and grateful to H, J and L for getting me out when I see them for dinner on my big day. And I sure hope they take credit cards). The only bright spot I can recall in the last 24 hours was the lovely Officer Paris Hilton - stict but fair (haired). It was a pleasure to be in her control, and I have to say it was a particular delight to have her take down my particulars.

But what on earth do I do next? The Company is sure to know about the blo*** Prius - I'm pretty sure that they called SB the EVP before reverting to my pals for help. So, am I facing a future with no Chelsea, no Aston, no job, and no car?????

Sorry, just had to break off to take a call on my mobile. Apparently, J has used her HR links to persuade the Company Medic that I'm having a breakdown, so they are offering to forgive everthing and put me in a private hospital for emergency treatment. I don't have a lot of choice, so I've agreed to exaggerate the symptoms and head off to the funny farm tonight.

Will check in as soon as I can - I wonder what tomorrow will hold???

Have to write this at the start of B-day minus 4 because I didn´t get released from the police station until just now. Thank got my friends J, H & l brought the money together to bail me out and pay the fine. It was over 20.000 pounds. I´ll pay them back as soon as I can I think.

My day in the cell with the air steward (I don´t even want to write or hear his name for the rest of my life) was a living hell. He tried to get closer to me while I was constantly moving away from him, but in a small police cell that isn´t quite as far away as I wanted. Ended up not sleeping for over 24 hours trying to upheld my virginity in this special case (never thought I had to fight one day to keep my virginity).

Strangely enough all unpure thoughts disappeared for the whole time, which at least has cleared my mind how I want to go on once I hit the big B-day, but that´s a story for another day.

Just a quick review of the service at the cell:
- food 1 points, I wish they would go back to water and bread
- service 1 point, haven´t seen a smile all day
- bed 0 points, didn´t want to lie on one of them because of you know who
- airconditioning 10 points, but only if you like freezing cold

Only highlight of the day: the police woman who gave me back my personal belongings with a smile, still haven´t found out her name, must do soon.

Woke up this morning feeling absolutely down - having been so close to create something beautiful with Aston, throwing it all away for a moment of total lost of control. Can't think whatever I saw in Chelsea, she must be a witch or a footballer's wive. Milano did comfort a bit, but will I end up in the same misery, besides who names their daughter after a football club ?

At least I thought I would do one positive thing today and take revenge on the horrible Toyota Prius and decided to drown it in the river Thames. Found a nice spot on the South Bank where I could drive it into the water and you will not believe this. This bl...y car is not only hybrid, it also floats ! Just my luck to have the amphibeous option installed on the car. Maybe I should have paid more attention to that person that was flashing to me from a 100 yards, but couldn't be bothered.

On top of that I got arrested by the police because they claim I tried to pollute the river Thames by driving my car into it, put I thought the Congestion Charge allows me to do anything in London.

Whe I thought it couldn't get worse, guess what happened in the police van that was taking me to the Police station. Roger the Steward was sitting next to me, acting like a litle baby. He got arrested for indecent behaviour when showing off his private parts on the South Bank. His story was that he was trying to get my attention since he spotted. I now have to spend a night in the cell with him - God help me, how much more do I need to be punished. I just need to remember not to bend over.

Police is now taking my mobile devices, will tell the story further tomorrow.

No. of impure thoughts - 865
No. of changes of clothing before going out - 7
No. of hours spent in a beauty salon - 4
No. of snogs - 1

Big Brother must be monitoring my diary - option 4 (the suici** one) was deleted from last night's entry. (I didn't really intend to do it, but yesterday was a v. bad day)

Today was my big day - dinner with Aston. J gave me the name of a top end beauty salon in London and I arrived there this morning and threw myself on their mercy. I asked them to make me look great - after much tutting, the manager said that with intensive effort they could aim for 'barely acceptable'. Basically, I don't know how woman stand it. I had 4 hours of sheer unmitigated torture. The 'non surgical facelift' to try to right my drooping Botox problems was first, followed by blackhead removal, followed by waxing. (I believe its called a 'back, sack and crack' wax in Australia). It brings tears to my eyes to remember it. They said they had never heard anyone scream that loud, but I was past caring by that time. At the end of it, I limped out 400 pounds poorer, but with skin as soft as a baby's bottom. But if I get a chance to show it off tonight, it will be worth every penny.

I arranged to meet Aston at the Oxo Tower, and got there early so I could be sitting at our dimly lit table trying to look my best. She looked spectacular - her long brunette locks swung over her shoulders, and she wore a fanastic short black dress. Dinner went really well, and the conversation was flowing nicely, when Aston suggested we moved out on to the terrace for drinks. As we stood there, overlooking the Thames, with the sun setting in the background, I looked into her eyes and prepared to kiss her. However, I suddenly became aware of riotous laughter behind me. I looked round, and couldn't believe my eyes. Could that really be Chelsea, queen of my heart, partying on the terrace with a group of friends??

I tried to keep calm, but I couldn't control myself. I broke away from Aston and ran across to Chelsea, calling her mame again and again. She looked up and said only 3 words - 'Who are you??' I was gutted. I've spent all these months worshipping her in my dreams and she didn't even remember me. Aston slapped my face and said that she had never been more insulted in her life.

So here I am - alone again, naturally.

As I stood there, shell-shocked, a pretty waitress approached and said that she had seen everything and wanted to make sure I was OK. She insisted on getting me a drink, and looking after me. In fact, she even insisted on walking me to my car, and kissing me goodnight. Oh Milano, my dusky Italian beauty - could you be the new love of my life????

No. of fights with the car unit - 4
No. of hours spent grooming in anticipation of tomorrow - 5
No of hours spent sellotaping my face - 3

People have been telling me that I look very calm today. Well, I'm not actually feeling very calm, but I look exceptionally calm because my face is totally frozen. It's unbelievable, but I have lost all facial expression. When I was angry, and shouting at the company car unit about the Prius, I looked like this. When I was happy and daydreaming about Aston, I looked exactly the same. But worst of all, my right eye started drooping when I got off the plane back from my morning meeting in Amsterdam. I phoned J for advice, and she said that everybody (i.e. she and her friends) all know that you can't fly immediately after Botox.
Dr Milano didn't mention anything to me about side efects - it seems that for 25 pounds, the serice doesn't include lifestyle advice. But the problem is that I now look like a cross between a serene version of Quasimodo, and a leering gargoyle. What on earth can I do to make it all right before my date with Aston tomorrow? I spent 3 hours trying to sellotape my face back into place, but that didn't work. Then, in desperation, I phoned the Oxo Tower and asked for a really dark, romantic, candlelit table in the corner. I have only 4 options:
1. I can hope that it will be so dim tomorrow night that she won't actually be able to see me.
2. I can change plan and ask her to come with me to that new restaurant in London which is totally in the dark, and where all the waiters are blind
3. I can tell her that I'm a war veteran with combat injuries to my face, and hope for the sympathy vote.

Hours of sleep during work - 10

Went for my Botox injections today, was greeted by one of the most beautiful girls ever, Milano. She must have walked straight out of the advertisement for Botox injections, but then at all the right places. Think that if my date with Aston doesn´t work out, I have my next love in sight.

The injections hurt like hell, especially the ones under my eyes. The Doctor said it wasn´t a great idea, but you know me, I will insist. Can´t see much now, but presume that after a night sleep it will be better. I hope so, otherwise won´t even recognise Aston on Thursday.

Drove myself home after the Doctors visit, in the vague hope to drive the "bl..." Prius into the scrap heap. My luck that I was guided through traffic by some male cop, who obviously thought I needed some male support. Would have shown him my middle finger, if I could have seen him more clearly. Must remind myself to tell J that it was a nice clinic, but was she sure that 25 pounds for some Botox injections wasn´t a bit cheap ?

The company does move quickly, already got my new Toyota Prius today - what an ugly car. They claim the Holywood stars drive in it, must be some weirdo from the Scientology who does that. They say the car is so environment friendly, but forgot to tell me it still needs fuel, so ended up stranded on the roadside near Swindon of all places. Boy - I do hate that car.

Finally picked up all my courage and phoned Aston for a dinner date at the OXO Towers on Thursday, which always brings me back many happy memories about Chelsea. Maybe with Aston I can add a few to those.

That Nivea Q10 stuff is really not working yet for me, so have made an appointment for a Botox injection tomorrow, mainly for my forehead (which is getting larger each year) and around my eyes for the bags. Got the address from my good friend J, who definitively doesn't need it herself, but always knows all the addresses to go to. Hope I will look great on Thursday for Aston.