Losing sucks, man...

and lose is what we did in City of Oxford Regatta. We lost to Linacre, Wolfson and HSBC. Still, it's the taking part that counts, not whether you win or lose. That's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard.

The weekend was glorious, weather-wise. Both Saturday and Sunday were glorious rowing days. The sun was shining, the river was still, fit people in rowing kit...it doesn't get much better.

Friday: the German and I entertained a couple of friends (Patty and Christian). I made a DELICIOUS pear, Stilton and celery soup, the German made vegetarian goulash (Delia's recipe) and we both made a chocolate cake. The soup and cake were a huge success, the goulash less so. If you've never eaten raw potatoes, don't bother. They are fucking revolting. The only problem is that the cake seems to have given me the shits. I've been ringing Patty and Christian every few hours since Friday to ask if they too are suffering from the shits. But no. Their bowel function remains unaffected. Bastards. Christian is very sweet. He's from Boston but is in Oxford doing a DPhil in economics. I think, he might be dirty though. Anyway, the German's boyfriend came up from London and we sat around talking and discussing Mo Mowlam until 4am. We also discovered that trying to work out currency conversion rates for random currencies is great fun when you're pissed.

Worked at the pub on Saturday night and was chatted up by an older woman. She kept buying me drinks and asking what I was doing after work. As I was rowing early the next morning, I said I was going home to bed. "Such a shame to sleep alone," was her reply. Fuck. How was I going to get out of this tricky situation without jeopardising the steady flow of drinks? Why oh why, can't attractive people say such things to me? They wouldn't even need to buy me a drink. I'd buy them a fucking drink. MANY drinks even. But no. I always get the repellent ones. The bint in question was quite frightening. The words 'mutton', 'dressed' and 'lamb' sprang to mind when I saw her.

Sunday was spend rowing in the morning followed by a boozy lunch at Branca (my favourite restaurant in Oxford, should any of my readers want to take me there sometime). I went with Patty who is HILARIOUS. Patty is from Taiwan but grew up in New York and Paris. She was at Columbia before coming to Oxford where she's doing a PhD on the trade in small arms (weapons, not midgets) in Africa. She's being funded by the UN or something equally ridiculously impressive. Anyway, the purpose of lunch was so I could meet her lovely Italian boyfriend who was also at Columbia but is starting at the LSE in October.

Gorgonzola does not belong on a pizza.

Nouvelle Vague. Great band. I've had the album on repeat since, like, Sunday.

Sunday, I went to a barbecue in Magdalen College. It was the swankiest barbecue EVER. It was catered. It was fucking catered...only at Magdalen...


Work has been crazy busy. I've had to bring Canadia forward, so I'm now flying out on Wednesday (Aug 24th) instead of September 14. I'm flying on US Air and I'm not terribly pleased about this. I'm a big fan of British Airways but the fuckers seem to have put the prices up by around 50%. The steward/esses seem to be on a mission to get you pissed on flights and they're always up for a laugh which they don't seem to be on other airlines. Anyway, I'll be back in ye olde Englande on September 5.

My Jaffa Cake addiction is spiraling out of control. I really should buy shares in McVities. I'm also alarmingly fond of lemon curd, especially the Duchy of Cornwall range (produced by HRH the Prince of Wales, no less). Charles and I go waaaayyy back, having been at Trinity together. About 30 years apart, but still...

Things I miss about Cambridge:

-not buses/cars in the centre of town
-not risking life and limb everytime I mounted my bike
-Clare College gardens
-punting along The Backs
-Nadia's and Peppercorns
-Dogfish (the BEST shop in Cambridge)
-old friends
-formal halls (just not as much fun in Oxford)
-May Week
-the UL
-the phantom defecator in the UL
-Emmanuel College bar
-King's College cafe
-evensong at Caius
-Fopp (for cheap music)

Currently listening to: Politic Amagni by Amadou + Mariam


Saw 'Crash' this evening. Depressing film.

Compliment...

On Friday, I was referred to as an INTELLECTUAL PROVOCATEUR.


How fucking HOT is that? It's very hot. Practically the HOTTEST.


I miss Brian. Brian was at Oxford last year but is now living it up in Washington DC, putting the world of the Democratic Governors' Convention to rights.
We used to frequent the less salubrious drinking establishments in Oxford and the more salubrious drinking establishments in DC. Brian I miss you! Get your ass over to Oxford soon.

Brian For President! Yeah!!

Currently listening to: In My Time of Need by Ryan Adams.

Had a rather unusual dream in Saturday night. I was on a bus in London with Conrad the photographer and he got off the bus at his stop and the bus continued on. I had taken my black Doc Martens off (I don't own Doc Martens) and put them in a plastic bag with a frying pan. I dozed off and was awoken as the bus braked suddenly. I panicked and scooped up the plastic bag not realising that one of the shoes had fallen out. Whilst scrambling around on the floor of the bus to recapture the wayward shoe, I elbowed the bag with the frying pan and the other shoe and sent them flying out the window just. I leapt out after the bag just as the bus pulled away. It wasn't until the bus had gathered speed that I realised that I'd left my wallet and phone on the bus.

So, there I was...in London, late at night, no money or phone BUT with a frying pan and 1 shoe. Luckily.

I recounted this dream to my housemate on Sunday morning and we ended up having a deep and meaningful discussion about the dream becoming reality and me ending up lonely and alone in old age.

Does anyone else worry that they'll end up shoeless and alone in old age?

I was in quite a good mood til then. Bloody housemate.


Currently listening to: Close to You by Matt Munro.



Currently listening to:

The Pub...

I had my first shift at the Jericho Tavern on Saturday. It was HOT. There were a couple of bands playing in the upstairs bar. Both were really good. One was doing cover versions of some of my favourite tunes. I just can't get enough of A Little Respect by Erasure.

The boss seemed pleased with my 'performance' and asked me to come in on Sunday to sign a contract and some other bits of paper. In all, I signed 17 pieces of paper...there was less paperwork connected to my job at the University (and we all know how bureaucratic Oxford is). Anyway, it went so well that he asked me to do a shift on Sunday too. I was working with my housemate and some bint who not only arrived 15 minutes late but then proceeded to sit down and have a couple of cigarettes and a drink! I couldn't believe it.

Have my next shift at the pub on Tuesday when the pub hosts as jazz night. Should be good fun.

My week now consists of:

mom.-Fri., 9ish-5ish: work
Mon., 7pm: rowing
Tues., 7-11:30: working in the pub
Weds., 7am: rowing
Thurs., 7pm: rowing
Sat., 7-12:30: working in the pub
Sun., 11-5: working in the pub

With bits of Renaissance Literature thrown in.

Currently listening to: Felt Mountain by Goldfrapp

I FINALLY painted my bedroom on Sunday. It is now a lovely cool, pale blue.

I only had 12 Jaffa Cakes over the ENTIRE weekend. My addiction is well and truly in hand.

Despite what MarketMosley may say, urine is sterile. He has clearly never experimented with watersports.

McVities Jamaica Ginger Cake is delicious smeared with butter and lemon curd. Very lardy though. I think I'll stick with Jaffa Cakes.


My newly shorn head is still looking good. Actually.

Vandalism...

Every time...every fucking time I have a piss, the bloody automatic room deodoriser spritzes the back of my head with floral scented carcinogens.

I decided to wedge a bit of cardboard in the opening where the nozzle pops out (like a cookoo clock) and just to be sure, tape it in place. Bad idea.

No. That's wrong. Good idea, bad reception. This afternoon, everyone in my section got an email from the bitch facilities manager asking whoever is destroying University property to stop at once or face disciplinary action. Apparently, the cleaner wasn't impressed by my ingenuity and initiative. Bastard.

The last few days have been tiring. I've been going to the gym before work which makes me feel really good and wide awake during the day, but by around 10pm, I'm absolutely shattered.

Saturday will definitely be paint my bedroom day. Saturday is also the day I have my first shift at the Jericho Tavern. My housemate works there and has a blast so I thought I'd give it a go and work 2 shifts/week. The Jericho Tavern is my second favourite pub after The Royal Oak. But neither can aspire to the dizzying heights the Duke of Cambridge occupies in my heart.

Currently listening to Lovely Head by Goldfrapp

City of Oxford Regatta is getting closer and closer and we're having fewer and fewer outings. Someone explain this to me, please?

So far today, I have consumed:

2 cups of tea
2 litres of water
1 banana
1 bowl of porridge with sunflower seeds, flax seeds and raisins
2 slices of toast
1 omelet made with 2 eggs and Red Leicester
14 Jaffa Cakes.

14?! I couldn't fucking believe it. I bought the kind that come in a tube this afternoon when I went home for lunch. I thought...Hmmm...I'll buy the ones in the handy resealable tube so I'll be able to handily reseal them after I have 1 or 2 each time, until they are gone. Also, the ones in the tube are 90p for 15, whereas the ones in the box are 71p for 12. You do the math, 'cause I can't.

Anyway, went home, had said (delicious) cheese omelet and toast, cup of tea and 14 Jaffa Cakes. This is getting ridiculous. I must have inhaled them. I've got to stop, man.

Had my hair cut SHORT yesterday at the Market Barbers in the Covered Market. A lovely fat Scotsman did it. I'm really pleased. It's the best haircut I've had in ages and only cost £10.20. I pointed to a photo in a magazine and said 'I want that one but less severe.'.

I can't help running my fingers through my hair though. It feels so damn nice. Ad, AND, my head doesn't look remotely testicular.

Go to Google and type in the word 'failure'. It's hilarious. And it's not even a piss-take but the real live, genu-wine site.

Currently listening to: Annie Mae by John Lee Hooker

Oxford is quiet socially at the mo. Barnaby, anti-technology Steven, sexy Patti, Mark Muscles, Tuvia, Hot Bescher, Johnny McK etc... are all gone. Most only for a few weeks but their absence is being felt greatly. I'm about ready to weep. Come back. COME BACK. COME BACK!!!


It seems my stalker has redoubled his efforts. I was flattered to begin with but now I'm just getting annoyed. I wouldn't mind so much if he used deodorant. Still, you can't have everything, can you? Huh? If I complain too much about this one, I might not have another for a long time and in a freakish, masochistic way, I quite like it. It's very flattering. Besides, I'm stronger than he is and can easily out-run him.

I'd quite like:

A new bike
A new computer
A new watch
A holiday in Italy and Spain
A new pair of spectacles (I just want a new pair, I don't need a new pair)
An unlimited shopping spree at Selfridges

Realistically, only the first 5 are going to happen anytime soon. BUT if any Selfridges MDs are reading...

Currently listening to: I Can Hardly Spell Your Name by Lambchop

Urination...

I think it's perfectly acceptable to urinate in a sink if there is no toilet nearby.
I developed this habit when I lived in College (17th Century, no less)and whilst there was a sink in each room, I had to go up 3 flights of stairs to get to the bathroom.

Many people are disgusted by this but to them, I say...URINE IS STERILE.

A few days ago, some friends and I were arguing whether or not rights should be linked to intelligence. That was our initial premise, anyway (yes, we were drunk). We then decided that rights should be linked to applied intelligence. Disturbingly, most people were in favour of this...

And people say I'm right wing...


Currently listening to: Silent To The Dark by The Electric Soft Parade.

Thirst quenching...

I've been drinking Campari and soda like it's water.

How can something so bitter be so good?

People have been asking that about me for years...


Currently listening to: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

Footwear...

Once again, my favourite Canadian newspaper is printing shit. It is advising Canadia's menfolk to wear leather flip-flops/slides. That is just wrong. Leather flip-flops are not stylish. They are favoured by greasy-haired, gold chain-draped, tight jeans-wearing, Rolex-sporting gigolos (and those aspiring to those dizzy heights). They are not cool. They are not classy. They are not sexy. They do not make me hard. Oh no...they make me droop.

Last weekend, Rick came to Oxford to see me. We ate and drank and walked around looking at some of the many beautiful buildings in Oxford. Shoved him back on the Oxford Tube on Sunday and I spent the rest of the day gambolling around New College gardens, reading the Sunday papers and people-watching.

Had an outing in an 8 on the river at 7pm yesterday. It was good fun. Lots of starts and 500m pieces. We're training for the City of Oxford Regatta but really don't have a hope in hell. It's all good fun though. Yesterday, 1 of the two pleasant crew members was away so in his place, we had a sub from Linacre who was also pleasant. Or so I thought..."where are you from?" he asked. "Toronto", I replied. "Really? You sound very Cambridge." Twat. Cambridge? What's that supposed to mean?! I sound (as EVERYONE who isn't hard of hearing or a retard) will attest to...T R A N S A T L A N T I C.

Currently listening to: Life of Riley by The Lightning Seeds.

Currently wearing: kidney-bean coloured cords, white shirt with fine blue lines, reddish-brown boots. I look hot.

No really. I do.

Thanks to Conrad I now have a photograph. Hurrah!! Now my (no doubt, numerous) fans will be able to gaze adoringly and longingly at my chiseled features betwixt my random musings on here.

Conrad, if you're reading this (and how could you NOT be?), thanks, dude. I owe you.

Now listening to: Babies by Pulp.

Apparently, Mr Depp based his portrayal of Willy Wonka on Michael Jackson. I didn't really see it though as I've never seen Michael J interact with children. Rick suggested this but I discounted it as he lacks an Oxbridge education (KIDDING!) but I was forced to reconsider his opinion when someone else said the same thing. Damn. I hate being wrong.

Rick is off to NYC indefinitely for work. If you're in NYC and are reading this, get in touch with him (via me). He doesn't have any mates in London, let alone NYC. Ha,ha...not really.

Now listening to: Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie. (I think it should be pronounced Boe-ey but everyone seems to pronounce it Bau-ey. Fucking morons.

I think my hair will get the chop this week. That way, if it looks heinous, it'll grow back before the start of Michaelmas.

Words of wisdon...

You can't polish a turd.

I'm addicted...

to:

Porn, Ryvita and Jaffa Cakes.

Is there a support group for people like me?

Currently listening to: Rocket Boy by Liz Phair (from the Stealing Beauty soundtrack. Good film. Better soundtrack).

So far, 1 person has said I shouldn't get rid of my hair.

Worlds collide...

I dread to think what would happen if my addictions all met in one room at the same time...

Porn, crackers and cookies.


Cock in one hand, Ryvita in the other, a handful of Jaffa Cakes stuffed in my mouth.

I'm practically a Tory MP.

That's hot.


Currently listening to: We Are Monkeys by Travis

The Dark Ages...

Once again, I don't have a problem with God. Merely his fan-club.

Currently listening to: Disgraceful by Dubstar (strangely appropriate, given the above).

Gosh...2 posts in one day. Oh, you lucky, lucky people...

Film...

Yesterday, I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. BRILLIANT film. Johnny Depp, is, as usual, amazing. Some people say I'm a bit like Mr Depp...

They don't really say that at all, I'm afraid.

This weekend, Rick (with whom I've recently been reunited) is coming up to Oxford. When I say he's 'coming up to Oxford', I mean he's visiting, not he's going to be studying here. When he leaves Oxford, he'll just be leaving, not 'going down' which is the term used to describe leaving Oxford for vacations. For example, you'd say, "I came up in October and went down in June".

In any case, Rick is doing neither.

Yesterday, we had a session in the Tank. It was good but tiring. The fucking coach really worked us. Once again, everyone was dripping with sweat and once again, the chlorine saved me from retching all over the place. I must introduce the crew to some of the many fine 'antiperspirants' on the market. These 'antiperspirants' are readily available at reasonable cost.

This morning, I had the usual break-down/analysis e-mail of yesterday's outing. As usual, the spelling and grammar were dire. Anyway, we should be gearing ourselves up mentally for City of Oxford Regatta. Apparently. We have to focus on looking good in the boat. Because, as EVERYONE knows, looking good in a competition is the way to win?!

Currently listening to: Quaemadmodum by Taverner, sung by The Sixteen

Sublime.

Busybody is back from holiday and has had a haircut. She now looks like a butch dyke/man. That's hot.

I've been watching The O.C. before work in the morning. It's become quite ridiculous. Why do the Cohens not have a spare bedroom despite living in an enormous house? And the bint that plays the Cooper girl has got to be the worst actress ever. Summer and Seth are my favourites. Ryan is a retard.

I'm thinking about having my hair cut really short. Shorter than I've ever gone before. For those of my faithful readers that know me, should I do this? Will really short hair suit me or will it just look like I have a huge testicle on my shoulders?

Now listening to Whir by Smashing Pumpkins.

I called my parents yesterday to tell them when I'd be coming. I could easily have emailed this information but I thought it would be nice to hear the joy and elation in my parents' voices as I told them the joyous news. There was no joy or elation in their voices. I almost wept. I mean, what were they thinknig? I'm their second-born, their pride and joy, their son who isn't a complete waste-of-space bastard. I'm flying halfway around the world to see them...

Parents are strange.

Does anyone remember 'skorts'? I'm not sure they made it to the UK...

Currently wearing: flip-flops, stripey polo shirt and a skort.

Not really. Silly rabbit...skorts are for fat women.

Holidays...

I booked my flights today. I'm off to sunny Toronto in September for 10 days. I say Toronto but I really mean Mississauga. I just say Toronto because no one has heard of Mississauga. Have you? Well? I 'grew up' in Mississauga. It was fucking horrible. Very bland...

I've not posted in a while. So here you are, freaks...

The last few days in Oxford have been exhausting. I've been spending far too much time rowing and in the gym and not enough time doing other stuff.

Rowing: I had an outing yesterday morning at 7am. Days like that make rowing worthwhile. Temperature wise; it was pleasant, the sun was shining, the river was sun-dappled, there was a light (lite?) breeze. All combine to make a good outing. And, AND, we were rowing in an 8 which is much more fun. Yesterday's outing focused on technical stuff.

This evening, I have a session in the Tank. Our coach is bringing a camera so he can record us. Fucking pervert. I know what I'd be using that tape for if I was filming an attractive crew...sadly, he'll be filming my crew.

Anyway, speaking of the coach, I saw him at my local Co-op a few days ago. I don't like speaking to him at the best of times. He's only able to talk about rowing and when I'm not in a boat or wearing lycra, I'm just not interested. Seeing him in the shop, I thought, "shit...now what?" I had to walk past him to get to the aisle I wanted (the egg aisle, if you must know. I LOVE eggs). I made sure it was obvious I was wearing headphones by holding my head at an angle, mumbled 'hullo' and hurried past. I spent the next 10 minutes playing 'dodge the coach' whilst clutching my eggs nervously. He's a persistent bastard, that one. He FINALLY gave up and I lingered a bit longer in the shop in case he was lurking outside.

Anyway, short story, long...when I saw him the next day, he said 'I was going to ask you if you wanted to come do some chin-ups with me in the playgroung behind the Co-op but I couldn't find you'. I just looked at him.

He wanted to know if I wanted to do some fucking chin-ups in a fucking playground?! How would that have looked? A pair of grown men lurking in a playground full of young children...can you say 'paedophile'? Can you? Fucking freak.



Currently listening to: You Cut Her Hair by Tom McRae.

Had lunch at Georgina's again, yesterday. I'm becoming addicted.
Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter.

There are ALWAYS fit people in there, too. Not yesterday though. I was flaccid the whole time. Not even the sun-dried tomato quiche and amazing Greek salad got my juices flowing. Damn.

Why is it so expensive to fly short distances? Eli, Sam and I want to go to Barcelona in September for a few days but the flights cost almost as much as my return flight to Toronto. I mean...what the fuck?!

I've never been to Spain and there are large swathes of the country I wouldn't go to (too chavy) (to which I wouldn't go, Hot Bescher) but Barcelona should be fine. The food, the wine, the architecture...I'm very excited. I'll probably pickle myself with Sangria and Calimocho (red wine and Coke. Sounds rank but is DELICIOUS).

A while ago, I mentioned the non-flusher at work. For those of you not in the know, someone in my office has a daily dump at work but doesn't flush. That in itself isn't terribly alarming (see my post about beetroot/housemate) but, there is never any toilet paper in the toilet-bowl. Never. Just a lonesome turd. Someone is walking around with a very shitty arse. Anyway, Evil bosslady and Busybody are away this week and the turds have disappeared. Aha! I thought, one of them is the phantom non-flusher. No joy though; there was a fuck-off HUGE turd in the bowl today. The mystery deepens.

I find it very difficult to live within my means. Is this normal? I hope so...

Still no takers for my offer to accompany me to a colonic irrigation session. Fuckers. You're missing out.

Now listening to: Discractions by Zero 7.

Now that I'm going home (well, my parents' home) next month, I'll be able to buy a laptop there. So much cheaper than in the UK. No swish Apple shop, though.

This whole linking lark is great fun.

Currently wearing: my beloved flip-flops, jeans, a lovely blue and white checked shirt and a maniacal expression.

Chin-ups indeed.


A lot has been happening in the world:

-My porn-related injury is healing nicely.
-My 'friend' no longer needs/wants to tell the guy he really fancies that he
fancies him, as he no longer does. It's weird the way feelings change like that.
One day you like someone romantically and the next day, you don't.
-I'm experimenting with facial hair.

That's all, really.

Barnaby is going to be away from Oxford for a while. I'll miss him.

Now listening to: Into My Arms by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

'To do' list...

Today, I must:

-Organise a conference
-Go to Boots and purchase deodorant and face stuff
-Go to the gym
-Row at 7pm
-Eat a lot of fruit (it's on the verge of going off)
-Exchange a pair of shoes
-Drink plenty of water (only 2 litres so far. I'm addicted to the stuff)
-Watch some porn
-Buy masking tape to tape off the bits I don't want to paint in my bedroom
-Get to bed early
-Stop looking for love in all the wrong places. No fine girls, just ugly faces...


Currently listening to: Flawed is Beautiful by These Animal Men


Spent much of the day with Steven who I have a lot of time for. For whom I have a lot of time, actually, Bescher. We had lunch at The Wheatsheaf, wandered into some shops, bought some ties, and chilled at New College. We had quite an indepth and heated discussion about society's reliance on technology. Steven is one of only 2 people I know without a mobile. His argument is that 10 years ago, no one had them and we managed without them. Weirdly, Steven loves his laptop more than life itself. I THREW that in his face scornfully. Well, not scornfully at all.I quite like the boy and respect his views. The difference between my reliance on my phone and his on his laptop is that his computer allows him an outlet for his creativity whereas my phone dehumanises interaction. Apparently. We agreed to disagree. But I won the argument. I always do. Especially in my blog.

Currently listening to: The Fox in the Snow by Belle & Sebastian

The office is understaffed today. Evil bosslady is on holiday. Busybody is on holiday. The temps aren't in. Of the 9 of us that should be in, only 3 are and one of the three is leaving in an hour. Still, the remaining colleague is my second favourite so that won't be too bad.

Bitch housemate, who isn't really a bitch and is, infact, quite lovely, just really fucking stupid sometimes, left the house leaving the back door wide open. I texted, asking 'is there a reason the back door is wide open?'. 'It was to air the kitchen after I cooked'. 'What did you cook?', 'porridge'. The kitchen needed to be aired after she made porridge?! I mean...what the fuck?! The woman can't cook. At all. Her food in inedible by all but her. I chastised her when she got home. She won't be making that mistake in a hurry again, let me tell you.

What to have for lunch? I'm thinking, a meal deal from Boots or maybe just some fruit. I'm trying to limit my visits to Georgina's to once or twice per week. I might just go to Cafe Nero in Blackwells and have an Americano and read the LRB which has the most hilarious Personals column.

Currently regretting: not removing my clothes from the washing machine this morning. They'll fucking reek when I get home and require re-washing.

I watched the Fantastic 4 yesterday. Unchallenging, lighthearted entertainment. Not a patch on X-Men though. Gawd, I'd love to be an X-Men. As long as I had a good superpower.


Currently listening to: Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing by Stevie Wonder

Laptops...

I want to buy one. I'm thinking an Apple of some description, as they are sexy. And I want an excuse to go to the uber sexy Apple store in Regent Street. Thoughts? I had my heart set on a Mini Mac, but apparently, it would be foolish to buy a computer I can't take everywhere I go. So, laptop it is. I'm so damn amenable.

Weekend:

Well, went to London, as planned. Got the Oxford Tube to Victoria then two stops on the Tube to Vauxhall. I was met at Vauxhall by the lovely Tuvia who I'd not seen in 3 weeks. That's the longest we've gone without seeing one another since we met.

Anyway, Tuvia's swish new flat is about 7 minutes fromn the Tube station. It's a lovely flat. 3 bedrooms, living room with huge windows and a kitchen with a gas cooker. GAS! Gas is amazing to cook with. Electric may be safer but it's just not the same for cooking with. We ate and drank and headed to Fiction. On the way there, Tuvia remarked "now, I know you won't know anyone there but I'll introduce you to some people." Oh, okay, I thought. That'll be nice. So, we get to Fiction and within a minute of standing in the queue, I hear someone calling my name. It was a colleague from work I'd had a meeting with that morning. I'd suspected he was a bender but wasn't sure. Turns out he is. We chatted then went our seperate ways. While checking my coat in, I felt a poke in the ribs. It was Richard! I'd not seen Richard for 3 years. He used to live a few doors down from me when I lived in swanky Newnham in Cambridge. But we'd lost touch. It was good seeing him again. Anyway, by the time we left at 4am, I'd bumped into 7 people I knew. Weird. We then went to A:M, which was less pleasant and stayed til 9. I won't be going back there again. It was unbearably not, there was no booze, the music was awful, sweaty, shirtless people were rubbing them selves against me, the toilets were diabolical. DIABOLICAL.

Got back to Oxford at 6pm on Saturday and slept for a very long time. Got up and watched Bertolucci's 'The Dreamers'. Eva Green is beautiful. Absolutely stunning. Very pale nipples, though. French women have a certain fragile beauty that masks very willful, strong characters. And they're just so damn chic.

Currently listening to: Where Happiness Lives, by Magnet.

A new member of staff will be starting in my office next month. I thought he was a bender but he was talking about his upcoming honeymoon. He wears a ring on his index finger. On his fucking index finger. That's quite gay, no?