I don't like writing, I just do it to avoid going to the gym

I am in some degree of shock about A.A. Gill. Not that I ever thought he was a flawless character - rather, it was his arrogance and swagger that made him so appealing. But "I wanted to know what it felt like," is an acceptable justification for smoking cannabis, or getting in to a bath filled with warm maple syrup. It is not an acceptable justification for harming another creature, let alone killing a baboon for no other reason than to experience the sensation caused by the act of killing. If he'd eaten the baboon, I wouldn't have minded nearly so much. But he didn't want to eat it, he just wanted to kill it, in all its harmless, defenceless glory. Sure, it's 'just a baboon'. It's not like he tried paedophilia. But I find his behaviour gross and I no longer want to marry him. I'm sure Nicola, his life-partner and the mother of his children, will sleep easier at night as a result.

Sorry for the slight hiatus in LLFF - I really have been quite lost looking of late. It's all been a bit much, to the extent where I had to curtail a perfectly pleasant social engagement on Saturday afternoon so that I could go home and re-don my velour. Last Thursday I went out to see Dizzee Rascal in Brixton, an event that warrants an extensive blog entry in itself. Points of note were a) EVERYone was white. That must have been weird, no? To be a black guy, pretty urban, grown up in South London, come back to your turf to play a gig, and most people who feel your music are of a completely different demographic? Or is it just that concert-going is a white thing to do? It surprised me, anyway. b) I couldn't understand a single thing he said, which made me feel weird and old. Lucy and I tried to interpret the lyrics to each other. At one point, I came up with something like 'I don't wanna be a cyborg' which sounded reasonable but wasn't, I don't think, accurate. c) Two boys flicked my ponytail repeatedly so we had to move. Well, they weren't boys, and we didn't have to move. They were men, and I chose to relocate, because it was distracting. d) I danced like I haven't danced for literally years. The perspiring began almost immediately and it was clear that staying unsweaty was absolutely out of the question, so I gave into it and danced my trainers into the tacky, beer-stained ground. My t-shirt was soaked, my hair was plastered to my head, and it was fantastic.

On Friday I met up with Lilly from choir and we sat atop an open-topped bus to film an ad for a mobile phone company. We sat on the bus, without food or 'convenience stops' for about six hours. Our role in this pantomime was to be a guy's backing vocalists, so we sang and harmonised obediently, ignoring the cameras, shaking our percussion (no euphemism intended) and smiling at strangers. After an hour or two, my hangover became quite unfunny but, meh, you know, I was there, there wasn't really time to go home before I had to leave to come out again for the evening, so I just stayed where I was, getting more and more grumpy, as the bus drove us around London and we wooped and waved at passers-by. And I tried to smile at the production crew, but they just weren't engaging at all, and initially I thought they just didn't like me, but then I realised that they saw me as one of a herd of tragic idiots who are either a) unemployed or b) have (more worryingly) taken a day off work to sit on a bus with strangers, all in the name of what will be a maximum of 1.5 seconds' screen time. And I thought "You know, you're right. I did this for the experience, to see what it was like. But I've got the idea now. I'm going." So I got off the bus, went to the UK's first Anthropologie, where it appears they have carelessly forgotten to change the price-tags from dollars into pounds, and then had my fringe trimmed.

On Friday night, I went to see Singalonga Sound of Music in Leicester Square with about twelve people from choir, and laughed so much I was nearly sick. It was an exceptionally fun night. Highlights were Rob, whose gran had made him a fantastic pair of lederhosen especially for the occasion and the fact that Harry was also in lederhosen, but not a pair he'd bought for that night - no, he had them already and, it emerged, these were actually his spare lederhosen. His favourite pair stay at his friend's house in Austria. Extraordinary.

On Saturday morning I woke up and my body spoke to me clearly and firmly. "Stop," it said. And I realised I had no energy left. So I stopped. Well, I still went to the Tate Modern to look at the big black box (verdict: good) and met a boy and we went for a drink, but it was all in the afternoon and I didn't have any alcohol and then I went home and rested.

Sunday was my choir concert so the day was filled with tension and drama, and we rehearsed and performed and it was all OK in the end, although there was very nearly a crisis when one of the hook-on straps of my corset-topped catsuit pinged off as I executed perhaps my third handclap of a very vigorous gospel number, and I wondered whether the audience were going to get a bit more than they bargained for, but fortunately things stayed mostly in their intended places and I escaped without too much humiliation. After the concert, we all went to the pub and 'let off steam', and I was just about to go home at about 11, when a wizened man came up and said in a Texas accent, "Are you Jane?" and I said, "Yes." He said Grania had sent him, he'd bumped into her by her bike outside, and she'd said I could help him. "What with?" I asked. He explained that he was writing a book called 1000 Strangers, where he asks 1000 strangers the same four questions. So quick, you can do it too and beat him to the publishers. Anyway, the four questions were:

1. If you could be anywhere, right now, where would you be?
2. Who do you most admire?
3. If you had one wish, what would you ask for?
4. What do you fear?

I was drunk and it was quickfire. I said:

1. Japan.
2. Anyone who has a goal, sets out to do it and then achieves it.
3. A secular world.
4. Early death.

Yesterday, Grania and I compared notes. Her answers were:

1. Right here.
2. Someone who strives to make a difference.
3. A magic carpet.
4. Loneliness.

OK. I think that's enough for you to be getting on with.