OKAY.

I'm really scared about my mystery illness now. The Torchwood fanwank continues. I am exhausted, physically and emotionally. And I'm in London with nothing in the house except shit the boys have left me to clean.

I think this calls for an internet hiatus. I'll see you all sometime, unless I go to that great coffee shop in the sky.

(Oz? Are you around, I need you to take over.)

Comment here if anything major happens. Or if idiots finally leave James Moran alone. Poor fellow.

Today, the GRIEF subsided a bit, because My Mate Patrick (my band) were recording today.

I'm still very sick. I haven't actually eaten a meal since Thursday. So luckily, we didn't do any songs where I'm on lead vocals, but I wrote the lyrics for two of them.

We recorded demos of Sullen Cullen (Ode To Edward), on which I have a solo section, Dettol Blues and a purposely bad country ballad called How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away? We were supposed to do Erinsborough Police and Unfortunately Pipeless, but we ran out of time and also, I'm lead on the former. And H Samuel Robbery doesn't have complete lyrics yet.

I got told I should write one about Ianto, since he's such an important character to me. Here are the lyrics I've come up with. I'll put them under the cut as they contain spoilers.

( It's called Sort It Out Ianto, Ianto Sort It Out )


Also, LOOK AT OUR ALBUM SLEEVE

This was the funniest and most awesome of all the promo pictures ever made for Torchwood. I think we all need this.

I've got shakes. I've vomited three times. I've only eaten three spoonfuls of soup and a couple of potatoes today. I'm finding it difficult to breathe. I don't think this is Telly Grief. I think I'm properly sick.

However, the events of last night + my nan's death anniversary + illness does not a happy Hayley make.

As such, I shaln't be liveblogging tonight's Torchwood. The toys and I are going to curl up together and watch through our fingers.

A note though. I think Day Five will provide us closure on this horrible, horrible thing, and we'll all be able to accept it and move on. I'm keen to know the reason for the decision, but we should not forget that Day Four blew all of Torchwood and most of Doctor Who out of the water, and the thing everyone hates is integral to that.

ketsi_aiita_n have our own personal canon for what would happen next, which we are writing before I exit the whole fandom scene in general. Sort of like a swansong, but I think it's an excellent theory, one that, if there is no BIG RESET BUTTON, I will always hold in my mind.

So yeah, no liveblog tonight, as I'm going to vomit again, but I'm leaving the post open for comments. Either about the show or to comfort me in my sickness. Remember guys, it's just a show. A bloody brilliant, heartbreaking and inspiring show, but a show nonetheless.

I may comment on the key events later. For now, to get me through the grief, I'm going to focus on the Epicness of Peter Capaldi. If HE dies, we're all doomed.

Again, I'll say now that I don't want series 4. Not just because I think it'll be hard to watch, but also because I can't think of a finer way for Torchwood to end than a series as sublime as this.

And now I'm crying, and not in a Torchwood related way. I think there's something very wrong with me. It hurts so much. After this, I'm going to get in bed and cheer myself up with something because this is too much for one day. Labyrinth has never failed to work before, but I feel so bad I'm scared that if it doesn't work, my favourite film is ruined forever. I don't know what to do.

ketsi_aiita_n thinks it may actually be grief. The last time I felt this bad, I'd just seen someone commit suicide. Although I didn't see it, I started to feel sick when Stuart from next door killed himself last year. It's never happened with telly or film though, which is why I'm doubtful. I love them so much, but enough to have this bad a reaction? Maybe it's food poisoning. Maybe it's swine flu. God only knows.


WHAT I THINK

Despite the excellent reasoning behind the 456 wanting children, I don't think this episode is as good as the previous ones. Especially Day Four, and that includes the ending of it. UNIT guy was awesome though.


( I suppose I better put stuff under the cut )


Please, don't let there be a series 4. I know they have one ready, and the show can't just end because someone dies, but this series was just so perfect to end on, and with a new era of Doctor Who on the way, I'd like Torchwood to be consigned to Amazing Television History with RTD's era of Who. Actually, above it. Torchwood has surpassed Doctor Who. It truly is the sci-fi State of Play. No matter how sad I get, I'd like everyone to remember how happy I am that this show and these characters existed, including Tosh and Owen and Suzie.

Salem, my cat who's the massive Rhys fan, keeps meowing at me. Either he's upset too, or he wants to comfort me. ILU, Salem.

I feel a bit less sick now, but now it's over, I'm not grieving so much, and the sickness is still quite prominent. I think we can rule out grief sickness, though that intensified it. It must be swine flu. If Ron Weasley can get it...

Hi everyone.

If you either know what happened in Torchwood last night or don't care, please read this. It's very important to me, and also gives you some info as to my Journal Changes.

Also, if you are disgusted by the treatment of James Moran on his blog and Twitter, read this.

( I am mad about Torchwood, but not in the way you might expect )

FINALLY, I HAVE FINISHED MY TAKE THAT PHOTOS!

If you are on my Book of Face, you may see them there, but for here, I'm going to upload them at a better quality and larger, so you have to wait until tomorrow or Tuesday.

This bitch has damn near killed me, on top of the goddamn HEAT. Do NOT want to work tomorrow, thanks.

DEAR JOHN BARROWMAN.

YOUR TEAM ARE MORE AWESOME THAN YOU.

LOVE HAYLEY XXX

TODAY:

1. FARRAH FAWCETT DIES.
2. BOB THE DOG FROM NEIGHBOURS DIES (THE ONLY ONE OF THESE EVENTS I CRIED AT).
3. MICHAEL JACKSON DIES.
4. OLDHAM GETS SWINE FLU.

SERIOUSLY, COULD TODAY GET ANY WORSE? I'M PRAYING PATRICK SWAYZE HANGS IN THERE.

The conspiracy theories are abound already in this house. I said the universe is compensating for how amazing Tuesday was for me. This lead to Tim saying Take That have brought forth the apocalypse. I said Gary did a moonwalk at the tour. Toni yelled "GARY BARLOW KILLED MICHAEL JACKSON!"

The other theory in our house is that he has faked his death as a publicity stunt, ran off to wherever Elvis Presley is, and they're both going to do a comeback tour in a decade.

Also, twat of the week is my auntie Aileen's fiance, who has this on his Facebook.

What is the difference between acne and Micheal Jackson? Acne doesn't "come" on your face until you are 13.

I hate the guy anyway, but now I don't care what Aileen says, I want him off my Facebook.

I did originally have my Emo John Smith icon on this, but it's too funny. As is Ianto crying in the rain. Only Cribbins can express my sorrow.


Uri Geller is talking bollocks on Sky News. "I don't want to comment on personal things. I had rows with Michael." Well done, Uri.

Tim and I are discussing the insensitive The Sun headline to rival "BEADLE'S NOT ABOUT!" when Jeremy Beadle died.

My Take That photos are going to take hours, possibly days, to sort through.

Until then, marvel at how close I was.

GASP! At Jason Orange's Epic Manc-ness! LAUGH! At Gary Barlow looking constipated in the background. MARVEL! At the absolute lack of buildings surrounding Lancashire County Cricket Ground, meaning that on clear days, it is the most perfect backdrop imaginable for photos.

(My actual photos are much bigger than this.)

TODAY WAS SO GREAT, GARY BARLOW COULD WRITE A SONG ABOUT IT. IN FACT, HE DID.

TODAY, I SAW TAKE THAT FOR THE THIRD TIME.

TODAY, I HIGH-FIVED MARK OWEN!

THIS CLEARLY MAKES ME THE GREATEST PERSON ALIVE. (I ACCIDENTALLY TOLD themetunes VIA TEXT THAT IT WAS A HANDSHAKE AS JASON ORANGE WAS SHAKING HANDS WITH A CLOWN AS I SENT IT. A HIGH-FIVE IS MUCH COOLER).

I THINK HE WAS DRAWN TO ME AND TONI. HE COULD SENSE THE OLDHAM SPIRIT THAT LINKS US AMONGST A SEA OF OTHER LANCASTRIANS (AND OTHERS FROM FURTHER AFIELD!) THERE WAS A THUNDERSTORM, THOUGH WE HAD CAGOULES, WHICH DRIED OUT WAY BEFORE TAKE THAT, AND WHEN THEY WERE ON THERE WASN'T A CLOUD IN THE SKY. I WAS AT THE BARRIER. MY PHOTOS ARE AWESOME.

IF ANYONE TRIES TO DISAGREE WITH ME FROM NOW ON, I WILL JUST SAY TO THEM "I HIGH-FIVED MARK OWEN, YOUR ARGUMENT IS INVALID." OH MARK, ILU.

ALSO, OF NOTE, GARY ON HIS LITTLE BIKE WITH STABLISERS. MARK'S EPIC GLITTERBALL SUIT (NOEL FIELDING, THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT), MARK'S SHOES, HOWARD'S CROTCH-THRUSTING DURING THE FIRST ALBUM MEDLEY, JASON ORANGE: SEX PANTHER. THE MOTHERFUCKING ELEPHANT.

I TOOK ABOUT 200 PHOTOS. MOST OF THEM ARE AMAZING. BUT I HAVE TO GET UP FOR WORK AT 6AM TOMORROW SO IT'LL PROBABLY BE TOMORROW NIGHT. I HOPE I GET TO SIT DOWN ALL DAY TOMORROW.

ONCE AGAIN, I HIGH-FIVED THIS DUDE. I AM EPIC.

I JUST SAW JOHN BARROWMAN PLAYING A UKULELE AND SCREAMING "PIGS IN A BLANKET!" ON CBBC. LOLOLOLOL