NEW START
New year. New job. New life?

Work has been a huge shock to my sedentary system. After three months off, my body and I were becoming accustomed to neverending days of nothingness. Now I'm up at the crack and don't get home till it's closed again.

And as I dither over whether I ought to watch the end of Newsnight or start reading the biography of Marco Pantani, now is probably as good a time as any to take stock.

So what have I learned about turning 30 and surviving it?

1) Don't fall in love with your best friend. If you must, don't tell her. And if you do, don't bother blubbing like a Norwegian whaler who's forgotten his Neutrogena.

2) Don't stay in a dead-end job longer than is necessary. And if you do, try not to play a pivotal role in getting an unknown Congolese IT man on the News, and then watch in horror as his career as a novelty celebrity takes off and his appearances on TV multiply while yours become a distant memory.

3) Don't follow up a five-year old fantasy and expect the reality to match. And if you do, do it properly. Don't be lulled into thinking that, despite the distance, the time, the boyfriend of three years, and the 48 hour time limit, you're going to make her fall in love with you.

4) Don't look at years gone by with rose-tinted glasses. They weren't that great. They were just years you'd lived in a particular time, in a particular place, and perhaps with a particular person.

5) Don't write a blog that no-one reads, and even less people bother posting on. If it's for catharsis, then write a diary. Some things are best kept between you and your cluttered mind.

DRUNK AND CONFUSED
My toungue felt like it had been tenderised and toasted. My stomach bubbled like a witch's cauldron. And I felt confused.

I didn't drink much last night - probably a half dozen or so bottles of Budwar. And as the morning mist cleared, I realised why I felt lost.

Just two days after the Croatian object of my affections had finally put an end to five years of fantasy, I was having a heart-to-heart with N.

N and I are that curious hybrid of friend-cum-partner. We first went out six years ago. I was hooked. She broke my heart. I hated her. I forgave her. We got back together again. I went away. We were friends. And now...Now, I think I want a third bite of the cherry.

I planned to tell her at some point. Just not last night. But when she started telling me how my friend D and I were a perfect match, I had to tell N why I disagreed.

"We get on brilliantly," I told her. "We play off each other. You make me laugh like no-one else does. I enjoy being with you. And then, when I saw you at your mother's funeral, I saw a side of you I'd never seen before. I saw you had a heart as well."

Her reply was, well, typically enigmatic. She felt the same about me. She fancied me, enjoyed being with me, could snog me right there and then, but wasn't sure if I was right for her. When she saw me with D she was jealous, but then realised that D and me were probably a better match.

"Try it with her and then come back to me if it doesn't work," she said, seeming to echo Sting's exhortation that if you love someone you should set them free.

But I'm unvonvinced. While I like D, find her attractive and get on with her, there just isn't the same chemisty as there is between N and me.

Still, I called D today all the same. She wasn't there so I left a message. Then I called N - she's the one I want. And she knows it.