Here is another marvy glimpse into the gothic basement that I call my mind.

Shut up Jas, you are not Baby Jesus

This soft grass suggests 'softness' to me, but also at the same time 'lying-down-ness'.

I couldn't believe it. It was unbelievable, that's why. My face was like a frozen fish finger. All rigid and pale. (But obviously not with breadcrumbs on it.)

Dad has brought me a cup of tea in bed this morning! I said, 'Vati, why are you waking me up in the middle of the night? Are you on fire?

I am going to become a writer for Cosmo - you don’t have to make any sense at all. Or maybe I’ll be a bloke, they don’t have to make sense either.

As I have often said, she has two styles of acting: with or without the beard.