HOLLY MIRANDA SMALE

Writer, photographer, "rapper" and general technophobe takes on the internet in what could be a very, very messy fight. But it's alright: she's harder than she looks, and she's wearing every single ring she could get her hands on.







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Tuesday, 24 March 2009

The last 24 hours have been the most exhausting of my life.

I think I can say that with some certainty because I am never too tired to write, and - right now - I can barely form a sentence. I nearly forgot to add that second hyphen, which would have made the sentence grammatically incorrect and therefore abhorrent. You see? I'm clearly shattered.

24 hours of interviews, in one form or another. 24 hours of being on show, and struggling to make people - in one form or another - like me. Which, frankly, is touch and go at the best of times, even when I'm allowed a break and a pint in between sessions (which I wasn't).

I need a bath. I need bed, and a bath, and sleep: although hopefully not all together, or I'll drown.

I shall blog properly when words make sense again. And I can open my eyes without using my hands as props.