Sob! Only two more episodes of Little Dorrit left. Every week I've sat down religiously to watch each one - my only criticism being that half an hour just isn't long enough. Great cast, great acting - especially from Tom Courtenay - and a fantastic story. I've never read the book and I've managed to resist looking on the internet to find out what happens (which is quite good of me actually). So the conclusion tomorrow will be a complete and utter surprise, yay! To be honest I'm not usually a fan of costume dramas but something in this one struck a chord with me. Must read more Dickens!

Why is it that we need validation from others in order to have confidence in ourselves and our abilities? Over the last few months I have entered several short story competitions (as well as ploughing on with my novel). Today I got the results of one of them and my name unfortunately was not amongst the list of lucky winners. Not that I really expected it to be, but I did hope and I was disappointed.

I hardly tell anyone that I write in my spare time. Why? Probably because I've never been published. I don't feel that I can call myself a writer until somebody else tells me that I am and I'm not really sure why that is. I suppose one of the reasons is that it is hard to be objective about your own writing. I do find it difficult to stand back and judge whether my own work is of a high enough standard.

And also it's much easier to be negative than it is to be positive; positivity takes energy. We also live in a society in which being positive is somehow viewed with disdain. If you say you're good at something you're big headed, egotistical.

What I have learnt today - It's okay to be upset when something you wanted didn't happen. Confidence comes from within. Only I can create it in myself; now I just need to believe it.

I went shopping yesterday. Nothing special just normal food shopping. Oh my God it was absolute chaos. Methinks the Christmas madness has begun. The shops are shut for exactly one day, why do people go so crazy? I wonder how much of the food they buy actually gets eaten? I bet most of it gets chucked in the bin. It didn't help that Tescos had decided to put stacks of stuff all around the store so that it was impossible to get down the aisles. I could feel my stress levels rising as people wouldn't move trolleys. To add insult to injury they kept looking at me like I was a lunatic just because I didn't want to look at the tins of biscuits; I just wanted to get in and get out. It's not much to ask is it! I may have to hibenate until the silly season is over - has anyone got anyone got a large cardboard box? If there's any news reports about someone going berserk in a supermarket it's quite likely to be me and I will happily do the time.

Like quite a lot of other people in the country I anxiously awaited the results of "I'm a Celebrity" last night. It got me thinking about the nature of celebrity - why does it exist and why are we so fascinated with it?

In the past I've been a magazine junkie, buying up to 10 different ones, packed with celebrity gossip and devouring each and every one from cover to cover. Now I've restricted myself to 2 (only the the classier publications Now and The National Enquirer). If you asked me to name a film or television star's spouse or even the name of their kids there's a 95% chance that I'd be able to. Deep down I know it's stupid but I still do it.

So a certain person has managed to act on screen or record a song - no doubt there are plenty of people out there who given the opportunity could do better but for some reason or other haven't succeeded. The chosen few seem to acquire a pretty sheen - they're more beautiful than us, more charming. But they're only regarded as this because the majority imbue the minority with the power they hold over us. It's cyclical.

Stories from history, legends and myths are in there own way a sort of celebrity. We have always put others on pedestals - was this as inspiration? To be better people? What about today? Why do we worship at the feet of Brangelina, Posh and Becks and others?

Who can be sure, all that I know is I'm just as bad as everyone else.

I know I'm only 28, and some people might laugh, but I get nostalgic for the good old days. When these supposed good old days were I'm not exactly sure because the thing about looking back on the past is you only remember what you want to. You can call it selective memory or rose-tinted glasses but it amounts to the same: everything seemed to be better "back then".

It's silly the things you get sentimental over. I was reminiscing to someone the other day about cartoons and kids programmes: He-man, She-Ra, Around the World in 80 Days. I still get vivid flashes of coming home from school, climbing on a chair to reach the shelf the biscuits were on, and then settling down on our old brown sofa to watch Mysterious Cities of Gold or Knightmare

I sometimes wish that I could time travel so that I could see if my memories are real. Because that's the funny thing. They may not be. At university in a psychology seminar the lecturer asked us to remember something, an event or incident which had happened to us. We had to close our eyes and think back, bring up an image. He asked us to describe what we saw. Probably 70% in the class described the scene with themselves in it - they were seeing themselves. So how can that be a true memory the lecturer said?

Ooh this is new and exciting! I've never had a blog before. I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to put in it yet but I will endeavour to make it interesting.