Diary of a Notting Hill nobody | 7 April 2007

MONDAY
Feel dreadful. Had horrendous nightmare last night. Was sleeping fitfully when a ghostly form appeared above my bed. He was tieless, wearing a white, open-necked shirt (possibly Paul Smith), the sleeves billowing as he held out his arms in a Messiah-like way. He had dark hair, pale, gleaming skin and deep, piercing eyes. At first I thought it was just Dave again. Then I realised — it was The Other Dave. He was calling out: ‘Come to me! I can! You can!’ Woke up in a sweat and couldn’t get back to sleep. Went out to give Sesame some hay at 3 a.m. She looked at me knowingly. Horses can tell when you are emotionally disturbed. Fell asleep in stable, woke late and had to call in sick. Spent day staring at unflattering pictures of Mr Miliband, and repeating to myself that he’s nothing like Dave (No. 1 mean), he’s not even in GQ’s Best Dressed Men, whereas Dave spent five hours doing photoshoot for front cover.