Alan Johnston was finally released after 4 months of imprisonment by a fanatical group in Gaza, and that was news enough to pull me out of bed and into the bath where I belong first thing in the morning.

I’m going to the Midlands for work today, my little dress and toiletries bag and heels and book and hair thingies all stowed away beneath my desk. This morning a police cruiser chased a car trailing smoke down Borough High Street – it was heading towards London Bridge. This is a city where things happen, and quite quickly.

There should be a song, if there isn’t already, called If You Hadn’t Got With My Boyfriend, I’d Want Us to be Best Friends. Because it’s been the story of my life, at least on a few occasions. These girls, whether they’d gotten with ex-boyfriends or boyfriends-to-be were at times so incredibly striking that I’d think, Eureka! So THAT’S why you chose me. Because that’s what I’ve always aspired to become and haven’t yet achieved - this tasty, brilliant, bitchy girl with skittish eyes and a bursting grin, leaking confidence, and talent up the wazoo.

I don’t know why I’m thinking of these things now. I guess because I finally found the very thing I’m looking for, the perfect boy, but promptly realised my search isn’t over yet. Because now I’m stuck searching for the perfect me. Until now, I’ve always been perfectly tucked away inside my perspective. But I want to be objectively yours, now. I want to be that girl for you, for me, for everyone who sometimes relies on us to be Her.

I wonder if you can die from requited love.