I’m not called Delia, but I do have a love of parties – the sign of the perpetual girl-child that I am. I have therefore spent the day reading while nursering a little bit of a booze blues. Good thing I had one hour more to dwell in my little selfmade cave of shame and remorse thanks to changing the clock. Not that it got messy yesterday, but you know, booze is always a depressant. I will have a stern word with myself next time I go out partying. It was fun though. We ended up at a Helloween party in Kreuzberg where we got chatted up by 15 year olds.

It’s not me, it’s you by Mhairi McFarlane.