Pyjama Girl goes shopping

Alas, I'm informed that the world isn't actually quite as fabulous as I think it is right now. It seems the latest wonder-drug I've learned to love didn't just haul me out of depression - it kicked me into hypomania, a mental state somewhere between normal and full-blown mania. A state that feels rather nice, actually. A state where you just want to keep experiencing everything that life has to offer - especially if it contains alcohol - where inhibitions disappear, and where I just keep spending money.

My flat is filling fast with everything from drill bits (for a drill I don't yet possess) to rather gorgeous snakeskin kitten heels (can't walk in them, but isn't it compulsory for a girl to have at least one pair of shoes that kill you but look great?) Then there's the department store's worth of lingerie, clothing and cosmetics and a dolphin-endangering mountain of canned tuna. And that's before we even get to the knitting paraphernalia.

Somehow it all made sense at the time of purchase. It wasn't just impulse shopping. Well, it was - but at the time it seemed much more like sensible, even necessary, investment. Like the three hours just before dawn spent surfing Sainsbury's website to ensure that I'd covered all bases on tuna - in spring water, in brine, in oil, in tomato sauce and all in a variety of sizes. The faces on the delivery people lugging it all up three flights of stairs to a one-bedroom flat - I think they must have been envisioning an industrial catering facility - were the first indication that perhaps I'd gone a little bit mad.

But it's a nice kind of mad, most of the time. It's the kind of madness where I have brilliant ideas, where my thoughts whizz and spin and my spirits soar. It's a place where the colours are brighter and the textures richer and song lyrics are profound. Until your friends point out that the idea you've just had is rubbish, the song is a Eurovision entry, the geraniums have always been that colour and maybe it's time to get some sleep now.

But sleep isn't really something that happens. For starters, I don't want to go to bed. It seems like such a wasted opportunity, when if I just stay up a couple more hours I'll finish the incredibly cute baby jacket I'm knitting. It's the second one of the week, but all my friends are having babies so someone will need it. My thoughts skittle along as I realise that in fact it is essential that I start on the next one tonight as well ... in which case I'll need more wool tomorrow ... so I'll just get on the internet and see if I can find a bit more ... and wow, what a cute book of patterns for kids, I'll just order it and then I'll need some new needles and more yarn ... and I like both colours, but if I buy some from this website and not the other one then that one will be left out so I need to buy it from both ... and there's the doorbell, that'll be the postman so it must be morning now and I wonder what he's delivering to me today ... I don't remember ordering a CD of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, but how useful now that it's here ... and that must be a bank statement, I won't open that just now ... in fact, bank statements should be opened on a purely 'need to know' basis ... and did I make a cup of coffee or not ... oh I did, but it went cold because I forgot to put the milk in, because when I went to the fridge I noticed the cherry tomatoes are really, really glossy ... and so on. That's as close as I can get to describing the great stream of consciousness that is hypomania. Nice, but not exactly useful.

Probably the only productive thing to come out of this huge burst of energy is the knitting. I took it up in Australia over Christmas, when it was too hot to do anything but sit in front of the airconditioner and get my mum to teach me to knit. And then I got addicted. And discovered that if you make kids' clothes they get done really fast and look really cute and make you really popular with your siblings and friends who have taken up breeding. Take a ball of wool and a couple of aluminium sticks and before you know it you've turned it into a little jacket ... even before I was hypomanic that could make me feel very clever.

According to media reports, knitting is not only the most fashionable hobby to take up (everyone from Madonna to David Arquette is allegedly at it), but it also has tangible health benefits, lowering blood pressure and relaxing you. In fact, there's apparently all sorts of proof that knitting alters your brain waves in the same way that meditation does. In that case, perhaps it's the one thing that has saved me from skeltering into full-blown mania. Perhaps knitting therapy is the way forward? It's either that or the new mood stabiliser that the docs are trying to sell me on!