I'm not worried by terror threats or street crime, but I'm worried by the fire-fighter's 8-day strike, which began today. I keep having visions of my home turning into a 21-storey towering inferno (damn 70s disaster movies, putting ideas in my head). And, of course, a fire on the tube.

A few months ago, I was on the Bakerloo line when the train stopped and the power went dead, leaving us in almost-total darkness. The driver reassured us that we'd be moving in a few minutes, but I managed to convince myself that I could smell smoke. I'm not normally a claustrophobic person, but being that far underground in the dark is bound to rattle anybody's nerves. I usually take the Circle line most of the way to work, which runs on the surface, but it's those few stops on the Bakerloo that are worrying me. I think I'll be taking the bus to work all next week.

Ah, I shouldn't be such a doomsayer. Everything will be fine. (Fingers crossed).

Especially considering... I'm going to Erotica tomorrow!! I can't wait. I am soooo excited. I've spent all week wondering what to wear, and C is doing an emergency launderette visit tomorrow morning so he can wear his favourite semi-sheer black top. I saw an advert for the event last night on channel 4, which was pretty cheesy but gave me an idea what to expect. We're going to get there as soon as it opens (1pm) and hopefully stay until it closes at 10pm. Woohoo! My overdraft is going to take one hell of a beating...