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Wednesday 20.3.02 | Yesterday actually turned into a day of wonderful nothingness - managed to achieve very little, and didn't break anything else (the washing machine, by the way, simply needed the requisite amount of cooing, coaxing and brute force applied) so it was a good day. I did, however, catch up with the news, especially about hunting. For someone who spent his formative years in the countryside and has been on a hunt, I say go ahead and ban it. I think it's a perversion to get pleasure from killing terrified animals, and the sooner it's stopped, the better. Thursday 21.3.02 ...because obviously the intelligent thing to do was to go out on a mini pub-crawl with Jo the night before my German oral exam, partly in celebration of the fact that French oral is dead and done for another year. Actually, both exams went reasonbly, as far as I can tell - I never go too excited or worried about spoken exams because if you fuck them up, you fuck them up, and besides, you can't cram for them. So last two days were rather uneventful, apart from, perhaps, getting slightly pissed with Jo and then talking crap with two examiners this morning about how your time at school influences your life. That's that done then. Friday 22.3.02 I normally don't give money to buskers, but I was sorely tempted earlier to drop a few coins into the hat of this dude who was sitting on the pavement outside Goodge St Station, and making the most infernal, tuneless racket you could ever imagine. Why? The enterprising sod was plaing a road-cone. I think if I had had any change, he would have got it all. I mean, marks for originality, come on... Ooh yeah, and it's the end of term - yippee! Monday 25.3.02 Reasonbly quiet weekend spent walking around King's Cross in my DJ on Friday night going to Jennie's 21st and praying that, although I really was asking for it, nobody would come and kill me, and then Saturday the same thing out in Bow Road at Matt's Moulin Rouge party. I was quietly chewing the fat with Tom yesterday evening on Charing Cross Road when it suddenly hit me that I did, well, nothing yesterday whatsoever of merit, apart from trekking down to Picadilly Waterstone's and triumphantly locating the last copy of a book which has gone ot of print and they said they didn't have any more, and which is going to help my revision considerably. So all in all, pretty good - a trend I would like to keep up. Cooking for some of the harem tonight (other nameless people's words, not mine) and maybe being dragged out to Heaven if my imminent gym visit doesn't knacker me too much. We'll see. Tuesday 26.3.02 It's another gorgeous March morning, and I am sitting here, researching whether prisoners should or should not have the right to publish accounts of their crimes for a debate with King's, LSE and Queen Mary later. I don't care about winning or losing, just as long as I don't make a complete nipple out of myself. I know I'm too old to giggle at things like this, but I hope you see the comic merit in it as much as I can (and indeed, as much as Swyrie can: if you liked that link, you can send me your praise, but if you were repulsed, you can blame her) - while we're on the subject, there is also the pleasingly pointless and esoteric history of toilet paper which I found rather droll too. |
