[

mood

|

accomplished

]

I have new boots.

[

mood

|

anxious

]

Have developed crush on Benny.

K-9 is on strike after Doctor used him as can opener.

Found a Mushroom Room in the TARDIS which I assume is scientific in intent. Perhaps some of that Quorn that Jo is hunting?

Think I may be alcoholic. Never mind.

[

mood

|

complacent

]

Much as I love the Doctor, I do wish he'd realise that staggering in at all hours reeking of Theakston's Old Peculier, sprawling on my bed with a suggestive leer and slurring "How about it, Romana?" is hardly erotic.

I quite miss Fitz, actually, with his strange little songs and his adorable boyishness, but he seems to be inclined to take these things terribly seriously. It's a shame, as I'm really too young to settle just yet. Perhaps in a regeneration or so? The Doctor is so much better with it all. Well, he is now. He seems to go off the rails just a little when he's that oddly smaller beige one. He's always so terribly... fraught about it all, although an arch-nemesis is a little complicated.

And the next one... well. There's such a thing as overcompensation.

By way of contrast, the next me seems to have got herself rather sorted. In fact, we're both remarkably - well, I hate to say more competent, but there's a definite difference there, don't you think?

*sigh* I'm just relieved I got the untidy extravagant fantastically sexually talented one. Poor Tegan. Poor Peri. Poor... most of them, really.

The Doctor just staggered in reeking of Theakston's Old Peculier. I must be going...

[

mood

|

sleepy

]

Did not go. Tired.

Shagged Fitz. Was nice.

The Doctor made breakfast in bed again.

I must do some laundry.

Jamie is here. I've heard he's a bit of a handful.

Need sleep.

[

mood

|

mellow

]

There are grass stains on my favourite frock.

I wasn't even wearing it for that long. Grr.

[

mood

|

curious

]

K-9 seems strange.

I was concerned about him, as he didn't make sense at all, so I visited. He made me tea and toast (he can toast bread, it's amazing) and talked to me in a strange and disjointed way. At least, it seemed strange and disjointed at first but now it all makes perfect sense and my left hand is magic except for the ring finger.

I suspect there may be illicit substances involved. It's smashing.

The Doctor is drunk, of course. He is also a strange and mystical tree god and I must worship him physically to make the crops grow. He doesn't mind.

He says I am "very inventive" when I'm "off my tits". I think he meant it in a positive way.

I want to understand the glorious mysteries of the universe but K-9 says this is complex and I will need more drugs.

Mmm... crops...

[

mood

|

giddy

]

I'm not sure at all.

The Doctor now appears to believe we're an item, in as much as he's been lurching into my room a lot more confidently of late and, um, er, not passing out quite so much.

It's all very confusing and rather nice. Even if the breakfast in bed tends to be rather higher proof than I'm used to. K-9 keeps looking all disapproving. He bashes into the Doctor rather a lot in quite painful ways. I'm not entirely sure it's accidental.

He calls me Fred sometimes. When he's feeling particularly fluffy. But he said not to say, so I won't post it in gallifrey where just anyone could read it...

*sigh*...

Have not really spoken to anyone else for a while. They all seem to be getting drunk. There's been a lot of trouble with a cat. I wish I could have one, but K-9 wouldn't like it. also, the Doctor would get tetchy. He already won't let me pay K-9 too much attention. Should I be worried?

Why does nobody talk to me? Is it my clothes?

I think I am developing scarf immunity.

[

mood

|

confused

]

The Doctor has been a little bashful of late. Although he is still loud, brash and bizarre, he is less so to an extent that probably ranks as "quiet". He says "um" a lot, rather than "AAAH!!!". He has also suggested I might perhaps like to go to the ballet with him.

This is all very confusing. I suspect, from things he has said about how nice I'd look blonde, that he is simply trying to seduce my next regeneration in advance. Nevertheless, he is being awfully nice, and he is all large and comforting and... scarfy.

And gosh, the scarf...

*sigh*

[

mood

|

embarrassed

]

Got in late, miserable, frustrated and drunk.

Doctor reeled in later, loud, lecherous and drunk.

And... um... just glad nobody warned me about this one. Foreknowledge would have been too much.

Um...

[

mood

|

melancholy

]

Feeling oddly lonely. Although I have no intention whatsoever of "shagging" Fitz, I do feel strangely lost. He really does seem to prefer Tegan.

Lots of people got drunk last night.

Nobody asked me.

I had to stay in while the Doctor went on a "bender" in eighteenth-century London for some reason.

Was bored. Made the Key to Time into an attractive stylised dog, then a bird, but it wasn't really much fun.

I am considering a makeover of some sort. The Doctor asked me whether I had a licence for my lipgloss, but I'm not sure what he meant by that.

Oh dear.

I really do worry too much, don't I?

[

mood

|

gloomy

]

I think Fitz is right. No wonder I regenerated. I have horrible eyebrows. I'm surprised anyone can bear to look at me. I'm a freak.

[

mood

|

irate

]

I am somewhat irritated with the Doctor. I had to spend three years reading History at Oxford this afternoon because he said my knowledge of Earth "wasn't up to much".

He is quite, quite impossible.

Got rather a good First, though. Well, it was so good they remarked it three times in disbelief, I gather. Quite enjoyed lacrosse too.

But still peeved.

Also, after he'd staggered in drunk *again* and fallen over *again*, when I helped him up he leapt back in terror yelling

MY GOD, WOMAN, YOU HAVE TERRIFYING EYEBROWS!!!

[

mood

|

annoyed

]

Fitz is a complete shit.

Feel strangely sullied.

Oh, fuck it.

[

mood

|

confused

]

I think I could quite take to this. Apart from anything else, it's nice to think that there are people out there who have to cope with this too.

He really is impossible. He was crashing around until all hours last night, singing one of those rugby songs he managed to pick up at the Academy (goodness knows how - it seemed quite sedate to me). This was the particularly vile one about Rassilon. At least, such of it as I can gather is particularly vile.

Does anyone know the words at all, by the way? Not that I'm interested per se, it just niggles.

I don't seem to dislike me as much as I'd worried. I said I was pretty! :)

Am alarmed at how pleased I am, considering it's me. It's just that I'm so glamorous and tall and glacial.

Fitz seems unpopular. I haven't read all the threads so I'm not entirely sure why. He's been nothing but nice to me.

I think the blond one no one knows was getting a little fresh earlier, though. I put a stop to it, of course. Can't be having that sort of thing.

[

mood

|

anxious

]

Well, I've given me this LiveJournal. I don't entirely know why, as I don't appear to like me much.

I said I didn't like my clothes. What's wrong with my clothes?

And that I was no fun.

I'm fun.

I'm sure I'm fun. I may not always know what the Doctor's talking about, but that's because the Doctor doesn't always know what he's doing.

Self-loathing at the moment, to judge by this lot. Mine seems to loathe all his selves pretty much equally, but then he would.

I will be awfully pretty, I must say. I think I'd miss my hair, though.

I like this hat. There's nothing wrong with my hats.

I hope the Doctor isn't drunk again. He keeps making comments. It makes me nervous.

I think I need a hug.