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2002-03-16 || 10:34 a.m.

When I felt really ill the other evening I looked into the mirror. I was really pale and my freckles were more prominent than they had been for years. I looked about 15 years old. I had (and still have) these dark smudges under my eyes. I look and feel like a 1930's TB victim.

Seeing my freckles made me think about myself when I was young. I hated my freckles. They appeared when I was about 7 I suppose and stayed until I was about 20. Like Anne in 'Anne of Green Gables' I just wanted to get rid of them. That then got me thinking about Matthew. When Matthew died in that book I was devastated. It was truly traumatic. I cried for days. Really. The same happened when I read 'Seven Little Australians'. God when Judy died it broke my heart. But nothing, NOTHING compares to Tom Browne being thrashed in front of the fire by Flashman. I never read the book but it was dramatised by the BBC when I was very small, pre-school. When I was a child I was allowed to read and watch what I liked, as long as I was in bed by 6.30 no-one was bothered. I remember it in black and white but that may just have been that we only had a black and white telly. Tom was tied, legs astride, standing in front of this massive open fire and Flashman was whipping him. It was horrible. Far, far worse than watching the sex scene in The Sweeney with your parents in the same room.

There were so many things I was going to write about in here today but all I can think is that I don't know myself. All I know is what I think I am. I feel sad. Why is it that the books you read when you are a child affect you far more profoundly than any adult book can. Or is that just me? I don't know. I think I got stuck somewhere because of my past. Who am I? What do I like/dislike? What is real and what is imagined? Is anything really you or are we all blank slates made up of cultural influences?

These are things I dislike: Cinnamon, oranges, apricots, melon, brussel sprouts, bigots, abuse of power, eating meat, shoulder pads, big hair, gold, the colour red, the colour yellow, cruelty, authority, born-again Christians, cold baths, the song 'stairway to heaven', people who drop litter, environmental problems, being afraid of dying, being alone, being crowded, parents, heights, cows milk, runny eggs, mushrooms, U2, Philip Larkin, wind and rain at the same time, films, geese that hiss, child abuse, Susan Blackmore, me driving a car, men that shout, propoganda, all high streets looking the same, tangles in my hair, doctors, sanity, team games, childhood, magazines like 'Hello'

These are the things I like: Rebecca, talking to my friends, curry, rice, salad, goats milk, dogs, rabbits, the colours black and purple, St Benedict, Gerard Manley Hopkins, art, reading, music, making tapes, horny men, dark hair, fizzy water, hippy clothes, baggy trousers, Doc Martens, beads, silver, the moon, stars, the sun, the seaside, swimming, Marc Bolan, sleep, sex, being healthy, piercings, vegetable samosas, popodums, Jeremy Hardy, making cakes, sitting outside reading in the summer, walking, trains, cross stitch, clutter, Galway, chunky sandals, WW1 poetry, madness, childhood, lemons, limes, fresh coriander, being a parent,memories

But I still don't know who I am.