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Wednesday 27.2.02 | Classic message from Becky the other night. In her own words: 'HERBALS TEAS R A BLOODY GOOD IDEA. PITY THEY ALL LOOK LIKE WEE.' In other news, Mike has dyed his pubes green. Silly boy. Thursday 28.2.02 Thank you Liz, for being my cultural significant other and walking down to the Playhouse to see 'An Inspector Calls' with me last night. It was just phenom, darlings. Fab. Even with the stupid luurvey-speak, it was first-rate - any play where it rains on stage and the whole set falls sort of forward-and-downward-and-generally-apart gets my vote. And we did the classic 'Ooh, let's-buy-Malteasers-to- eat-during-the-performance-and-then-scoff-them-all-before-the-curtain-goes-up' thing that everone does in theatres. I hope. Friday 1.3.02 Splendid. So far today I have got my paws on a copy of the UCL staff newsletter, in which there is a picture of me looking like my head isn't quite attached properly, confirmed that my French Renaissance exam is on my birthday, and written half of a really crap and dull essay on Heinrich Heine, who, may I just say, was a class one dickhead. All going marvellously, then. Monday 4.3.02 Seem to be caught in strange time-whirlwind at the moment - I'm being fat, lazy, apathetic and frivolous, and yet the time is always rushing by (is already March, for goodness' sake, and I haven't done anything yet this year) and I'm permanently exhausted. I'm now wondering whether the caffeine-withdrawal was such a neglible consideration. I bloody hope it's not fucking with my body-clock. Then I will be in the poo.
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