I wrote a book once. And then burnt it, along with 10 years' worth of dreadful diaries and excruciating poetry (damn good bonfire). It was a frightful pile of tosh and I have never written anything since. Except for 15 years of GIGO on the work front. 
Thanks for the sympathy re: dd. She now tells me she will always tell me 'everything'. Ha. There was a deal of unnecessary lying and shifty behaviour involved in the night in the field episode. Completely ridiculous, because as far as I'm concerned, if she wants to sleep in a tent in a field with her friends, it's entirely fine as long as she tells me first. Anyway, we have now moved on to the next challenge, with her announcing that she has a 'date' on Friday and that her beau is coming to pick her up in his CAR. Aaargh. AIBU to say that I have to at least cast my eyes over this personage before waving her off? Allegedly he is at her school. Why can't everybody be a poor sixth former like in Ye Olden Days and not have cars? Whyyyyyy? I do not need more stuff to worry about.
I used to live near the tree where Marc Bolan met his unfortunate end. I cannot for the life of me think why anyone would find any of the 70s popsters mentioned remotely attractive. I must have been an extra-late developer as they just all seemed like ridiculous old men to me when I was 10. Rod Stewart? Bleargh. Jagger, eeee nooo. Bowie, ugh, creepy.
Hair. Hmm, my hairdresser tells me repeatedly that I have "difficult hair". I have tried a great many different hairdressers over the years, ranging in price from shockingly expensive to vv cheap. And none of them ever seem to be able to make me look anything other than rather silly, so maybe my latest hairdresser is right. I think I should just give up and wear a swimming hat all the time. It won't look much more daft than the wonky brillo-ish arrangement I am currently sporting.
Herbs, I feel your pain. I have spent a great deal of time doing reading error analysis this year and I'm still a bit
about it.