Reasons why you should never take me seriously, part 117

I've been stuck at home for three days with a dodgy tummy and, in an attempt to entertain myself, I reverted back to my childhood hairdo.

Shaky hands, Leicester Square

This morning I found myself wandering around Leicester Square at 9am, too early for a 10am press screening of Into the Wild (a terrible waste of time, as it turned out). In the cold light of a cold morning, Leicester Square was even uglier than I remembered. Bare, unattractive, pointless. There weren't even any autumn leaves to kick; just broken glass from bottles of beer from the night before, and what night could that have been if it was spent here. But as I was looking around admiring the tourists for their devotion to London musicals (the queue by the half-price ticket booth was huge), 'The Fear Is On' by The Hidden Cameras blasted through my headphones and I found myself in front of what used to be the Marquee, the venue where I saw the Hidden Cameras playing in 200...2, I think. The way I love the Hidden Cameras goes beyond a love of music and a love of indiepop. It makes my hands all shaky and it's a love of everything that's good about the world.

My mp3 player follows my thoughts and goes on to play 'She's Gone' despite being on the random setting. I guess that's as random as any song. But they are so absolutely perfect, so effortless, so engaging and real that they could have been anything if they weren't a band. They could have been an art collective or a brilliant football team, a group of friends you meet one night and you fall in love with in one go, or a mourning family at a funeral who crack a smile when the priest says the name of the person they so loved.

They could be anything amazing but luckily they became the most amazing thing they could ever be.

The point of all this is

I came home today from a weekend away to find a letter. A real letter that someone took time to write, a letter about things that were fun and sad and important and completely random, a letter that began with "Hello Marianthi" and ended with "Lots of love". It was warm and sweet, so I had to put it in my pocket after I sat in the corner under the fairy lights to read it. I think it's going to be in my pocket for a few days so I can unfold it and read it again and again and marvel at the fact that I can still make new friends and they can be the best.

Listening to 'Coming Home' by The 10p Mixes

Some of life's biggest questions

In a room full of happy people, do you smile? In a room full of people kissing, do you swoon? In a room full of people dancing, do you play The Motifs?

I need to cry until my eyes go pop! because there is so much to let go of but just as it’s all about to burst I turn my head and see the twinkly lights behind the trees and I can’t bring myself to make them twinklier with tears – they are just fine as they are. They hide lives much more complicated than mine, they lit up embraces and swearing, they are part of something so much bigger than anything I could possibly imagine. So I think I’ll just write this and go to bed and hope for a foggy morning that I can cut through on my way to work.

I'm not scared to get happy

I am so happy, in fact, that I spent a drunken evening listening to Belle & Sebastian and smiling to myself. The ability to feel happy right now often eludes me but I have a very small reason to be happy and it's small enough for it to not overwhelm me. You've got to think small.

Life is complicated and life is great. I want to dance.

These mind-blowing insights were brought to you by:

- vodka and apple juice
- 'Sleep the Clock Around'
- pretty hair
- pink