About to try and head out to a film club on my own. Sad state of Norwood affairs involving a rat called Terry, a house I bought with a friend who then had the temerity to find an immediate and very serious boyfriend. She's doing her best, but essentially I've ended up living semi-alone in a suburban house with four bedrooms on the outskirts of London, almost in Croydon, with a potential rat problem and a near-certainty that I'm never going to have sex again. On the plus side, the mortgage is only £500 a month so, there's that.

I have decided that I'm no longer going to be this sad and alonely. 2017 is going to be a better year. Yes, the friendship situation is not ideal at present - pretty much every nightmare I've ever had on the ex front has come true in glorious, technicolour, intelligent, blue-sequinned form, but I work with some nice people. And we can sell the house in a year or so hopefully. Also now I know how to re-pressurise a boiler. And sand things. Although power tools remain a terrifying, surprisingly heavy mystery, I'm adulting all over the place. Everything's coming up adult. And yes that is about as depressing and frightening as it sounds. My father... He's still suffering from PSP. It is not a nice disease. My mother is unhappy and angry but not wanting to really understand how much that is the case. My brother's going travelling in about a week and a half for six months, which I'm disgustingly jealous of, but do get to go and visit him, which will be fun.

Most of all, I am not going to allow the horribleness of 2016 to defeat me, or all the scary things about the world, both Trump and Brexit, and much more selfishly the rubbishness of being very, very single at 32 when it is cold and wintery and all your friends and your general life in London feel very far away.