New to the site? Delve into the archive Information about me List of collected quotations My poetry sites Other links: The ineffable Michelle Infinite Fish The Echelon Project The 80s (my era) Move to Mars See Ann Widdecombe dance Think I complain a lot? The Yarn |
Wednesday 24.10.01 VERY tempted to stay in bed this morning instead of putting self throught the torture of the gym - was dark and raining when I woke up, and due to a slightly late night (evening spent with marvellous, lovely, fantastic, brilliant Jo) I felt, well, knackered. He also made me realise that it really is time I learnt to cross roads properly (perhaps a la Kath?), and not just stand on the pavement and think 'OK, self, you're going to get hit by a speeding ton of metal whenever you walk out, so forget the green man and prepare to peg it across.' Kath, by the way, under the impression she can stop traffic (and I don't blame her, I know if I was driving along and I hit her by mistake not only would the car come off worse than her, but she'd then come and beat the crap out of me - love you really darling), just waltzes into the road without even thinking about looking round. Bloody northern lasses.... Thursday 25.10.01 I am sitting in the science building attempting to think of something intelligent to put up here to counter-balance all the midless dribble I've been writing recently. Perhaps it's my own fault, but I am already becoming severly pissed off. The room is full of fucking scientists. Monday 29.10.01 Lovely weekend spent ambling (literally) everywhere around London yesterday and, having done a late shift, a party on Saturday night. Also I managed to ignore my slag-heap of work for almost the entire few days, which was lovely. My mood this morning, however, is swiftly getting blacker. I have a feeling that BritishDebate.com have crashed my email with all the useless shit they send out. Normally it isn't a problem because I check my mail every day, but since I have checked it for a while, the chances are there about about 400 messages waiting, all of which are members of the institution flinging abuse at each other, proving that they are sad and really have very little else to do. Tuesday 30.10.01 So after having a delicious lunch cooked by Michelle I had my scary interview today to be one of the chairmen a the UCL Euroconference being held here in April. Being used to blagging things, I thought that talking crap about the Euro for ten minutes wouldn't be difficult. I walk in, and the interviewer starts: 'Now, Mark, I'd like to throw a little philosophy at you - we're talking on a pan-European scale here, and I would be interested to know your views about the geopolitics of Britain's integration....' It was at this point that I realised that I probably should have done some preparation. Never mind. Talking of blagging, last night's Euro debate with the Debating Society was a mixture of sublime success and spectacular failiure - we won, but only just. And I did a crap speech. But the two redeeming features, which, I have to say, made the evening into an ultimate triumph, were that I managed to get S&M sex into a debate about the economic costs of Euro membership (just wrote membershit by mistake...silly me), and secondly 'accidentally' throwing a glass of red wine over an arse on the opposition whom I've never had any time for. An excellent evening, methinks. |
