"Yours is beautiful...

country, Honeychurch."

Isn't A Room With A View a wonderful book? The film is excellent as well- Judi Dench, Helena Bonham-Carter, Rupert Graves, good soundtrack, stunning scenery...it doesn't get much better.

Or does it?

Well, today, I think Oxford rivals it. It is a beautiful day. Not even remotely autumnal. Practically summer. It has reduced me to speaking in sentence fragments...

Saw Broken Flowers last night. It was pretty good. Bill Murray is pretty good in pretty much everything. How pretty.

This morning, I awoke with sore arms. I think I overdid it with the weights. I did this exercise whereby you lie on your back on a bench and holding a dumbbell in each hand, raise your hands over your head so they are parallel to the floor. It kills but I'm convinced it's doing some good. I will soon have arms of Anthony H proportions. I will then be content. But not until. Oh no...I will not rest.

Anyway, despite my sore arms, I had a good outing this morning. The coach really worked us. Up and down the river, at a rate of 26 strokes/minute which may not seem fast but when you're going up and down the river, it's knackering. Up and down, up and down, up and freakin' down. OUCH! Felt good though. I'm such a sadist.

Had lunch at Balliol today. The food was excellent, as it usually is. Lentil and sweet potato thing, salad and chocolate tiffin. Yummy. Balliol Hall is very pretty. High ceiling, organ, fireplace, really wide. Everything a Hall should have/be.

Currently listening to: Have A Nice Day by Stereophonics.

My Jaffa Cake addiction has been replaced by a Nutella addiction. I've ALWAYS liked Nutella but now I've discovered that you don't actually have to spread it on anything to enjoy it. You can just eat it out of the jar with a spoon. Using my fingers would just be wrong. Nutella is HUGE is Italy. Weird. I'd have thought they'd have their own version. You KNOW what Italians are...

This weekend I'm off to London for Tuvia's Hallowe'en party. I'm supposed to be wearing a costume but I'm not sure what. I'm thinking a suit, with a few buttons undone with a Superman T-shirt underneath. Clark Kent in case you were wondering. There is a really good Superman T-shirt at Zara which would be ideal. Good or no?

Alternatively, a Venetian nobleman. I've always wanted one of those ornate masks with the big beaks. But what to wear with said mask?

Now listening to Creep (Radiohead) but the The Cure cover version.Yes, that sentence is grammatically correct and the word "the" has not been repeated unnecessarily. So there. I am nothing if not grammatical.

Tomorrow, Anthony H is coming 'round for supper. I trust he'll be dazzled by my culinary skills.

I'm not sure I like Anthony H though...
"a copy of maurice, which i sadly did not take to london with me yesterday, preferring instead to read about the english court."

Preferring to read about the English Court? Catastrophic!

Now sitting: in utter disbelief.

We must, we must...

we must improve our bust...


After having quite the worst outing on the river on Monday, I've been hitting the gym hard-core. I spent 30 minutes on the erg, followed by 30 minutes on the Ladymaker. The 'Ladymaker' is my name for the cross trainer thing on which men never look good despite providing a really good work-out. Then some leg exercises. Today it's an upper body day...maybe shoulders and chest. I'll soon look like Joan Collins with HUGE shoulder pads a la Dynasty or perhaps Dolly Parton. I'm not fussed.

Anyway, I feel much better for putting myself through the paces at the gym. A good session at the gym makes a crap day feel just a bit less crap.

Have booked my flight to India in January. 3 weeks of iodine tablets, anti-malarial pills, dysentery, poverty etc...should be good though.

Currently listening to Agnus Dei from Schubert's Mass in G.

My Jaffa Cake addiction seems to be in hand. I've not had a single one in over a week, which is the longest I've gone without one. Fingers crossed and all that. This means so much to me and my family and friends. I hope I don't fall off the wagon.

Actually it doesn't really mean anything at all to me. I can quit whenever I want to.

Had a drink with Ivan yesterday at The King's Arms. Double Chocolate Ale is cheap and good. If only everything could be the same. We had a good long chat about this and that and decided we should go out together but quickly discounted that idea.

Good lyrics:

"Went to a party
Danced all night
Drank 16 beers
Started up a fight"

Sounds better sung in a French accent.

Now listening to: Friday Night, Saturday Morning by Nouvelle Vague.

Tuesday, Tuesday...

Tuesday...

What a non-day. Monday is torturous. Wednesday is hump-day (half-way through the week), Thursday, the weekend approaches, Friday, the weekend is so close, you can almost taste it...
Tuesday is nothing. It's bland-day. Non-day. Un-day...etc...

My Friday night was pleasant, I think. I don't actually remember what I did, but it must have been good.

Saturday was SPECIAL. Got off to a lazy start but it picked up pretty damn quickly. Met up with Mark K and dozens of his family for drinks at the Eagle and Child. It was good to see him again. Also in attendance, were Diarmaid and a couple of his mates, one of whom I've been emailing in a professional capacity who'd I'd not met in person. He interviewed Mark for his place on the Mst course and Diariamid was his Supervisor. Anyway, we (Annie and I) had a drink with them then decided we were hungry so we went to the Duke of Cambridge for a liquid supper. The Perfect Manhattans really are perfect. Practically ambrosial. Several cocktails later, we were making our way to the lovely Phil's place for drinks. We met some interesting people (1 freak though) including a Finn we had trouble shaking off and a very pleasant Canadian with good glasses and tie, with whom I swapped numbers. Anyway, we stayed there for a while (neat rum is not SMOOTH. Oh no...it BURNS), then made our way to The Royal Oak where Annie was meeting up with a friend who was back for Graduation and I was meeting up with Diarmaid. Again. This time, we had the Finn in tow. I chatted to him and Diarmaid and Annie was chatted up by a not unattractive but exceeding dull chap. I introduced the Finn to Diarmaid and mumbled something about needing the loo and went over to say hello to Annie who implored me to stay and not leave her with the freak.

Me: "So, what do you do?"
Him: "I'm a Project Manager."
Me: "Sounds interesting. What does that entail?"
Him: "I manage projects, mate."

That clears that right up, then.

He obviously sussed that Annie wasn't interested (vacuous but perceptive) and wandered off.

Arrival of Phil, Ladyfriend and assorted Green College people, including the freak...who wasn't really a freak just a bit unusual.

We decided that we really did need some food, so we canvassed opinion about where would be open and close by at 10 on a Saturday night, that wasn't a van. The freak suggested a "really good place, just over there...it's called 'Brown's'. It does really good food and it's open..." It was at that point that I cut him short and told him I knew exactly where and what Brown's is and don't be such a stupid fuck. We legged it to The Standard instead. We were starving and he was practically rubbing himself against Annie who was not impressed.

After The Standard, we headed to the Jericho Tavern...

It was 15 Minutes of Fame at The Tavern. DJs turn up and spin tunes (choones) for 15 minutes. It was a good laugh. Annie and I were boogieing away when we noticed a hot little thing dancing away. He looked good. I went over to him to say hullo. Turns out hot boy is training to be vicar. A fucking vicar. His almost as hot friend (who fancied Annie) is also training to be a vicar. We couldn't believe it. They are clearly going to be the hottest vicars in the C of E. I think a conversion is imminent..."no, no...we BOTH need to be naked for my baptism...".

So, was chatting to trainee vicar:

Me: "so, where were you before you came to Oxford?"
Him: "A college in London."
Me: "Oh? Which one?"
Him: "You won't have heard of it."
Me: "Oh, I'm sure I have; what's it called"?
Him: "Imperial College."
Me: "Imperial College?...no, I haven't heard of it."

Imperial fucking College...I ask you...

Such a sweetie! If anyone else had said that, I'd have told them exactly what I thought of them, but Matt the trainee vicar is just too, too sweet.

Currently listening to: Talkin' Bout a Revolution (sic) by Tracy Chapman

CHOONES!!!

Wait...

Have remembered what I did on Friday night. Had supper with Eli and Sam, Martin (who was in town for the night), Barnaby, Corin and Clary. Supper, was, as usual, delicious (I am the king of commas). We ate (Eli is such an amazing cook), drank and chatted. It was good catching up with Martin who I really don't see often enough. In Cambridge, we used to speak to one another almost daily but now that he's in London and I'm in Oxford, we don't speak nearly enough. I see far too much of Millar though...

Now listening to: Whir by Smashing Pumpkins

If anyone is feeling generous and has some spare cash, could they please buy a bottle of Dior Homme for me?

Magnet...

is my new favourite musician. Check his stuff out. Clever lyrics, gentle sounds. What is it about Scandinavian musicians being able to produce these amazing sounds?

Lay Lady Lay...beautiful song.


I had a SUBLIME evening yesterday. Annie came 'round for supper. We ate, we drank, we laughed, we cried, we made merry. Okay, we didn't cry but we did everything else. We had as much fun as it's possible to have with your clothes on. After dinner, we headed to the City Tavern for jazz. It was wicked. Good music, good crowd. After jazz, we headed to St Cross and drank the most expensive whiskey I've ever drunk. It was like, £10/shot or something equally ridiculous. It was worth it though. It caressed the inside of my mouth...

Today, I woke up with the worst hangover since the hangover that greeted me on Tuesday morning. Not good.

Currently listening to: I Believe in You by Kylie Minogue. Such a happy song.


Some of my favourite things:

Bourbon
Jazz
Throaty chuckles emanating from gravelly voiced women
Fuck-me boots
Sobranie cigarettes being smoked by women wearing fuck-me boots
Little black dresses worn by women wearing fuck-me boots. Sobranie in one hand, bourbon in the other. Head thrown back in laughter at my endless flow of witticisms

The picture could only be sexier if said little black dress-wearing smoker was using a cigarette holder...

Hmmmm.

Now listening to: Too Drunk to Fuck by Nouvelle Vague.


I wonder what the male equivalent of fuck-me boots is?


Now listening to: Lay Lady Lay by Magnet. Again.

Shockin'!

It seems lots of people don't know who William Tyndale is. (Was). Shame on you.

Yesterday, I had the best shift at the pub ever. Good staff, not too busy, gentle customers...

This evening , Federico and Jamie are coming around to supper. The German is hoping for some bedroom action (him and Jamie) but it's not going to happen, thankfully. I'll see to that. I could be such a mood killer, verily, the Anti-Viagra, when I want to be. If the German and Jamie need, erm, the 'bathroom' at the same time, I'll know why.

Currently listening to: Wild World by Beth Orton

It's been a bizarre day of music. I've been listening to songs I know well but sung by people who didn't popularise them. For example, Come on Eileen sung by The Cure rather than Dexy's Midnight Runners and Mad World sung by Gary Jules instead of Tears for Fears. The more recent versions are often better than the originals. Although, when it comes to films, sequels are rarely as good as the originals.

This weekend Mark K is in town for graduation! I can't tell you how thrilling this is for me. I miss Mark more than I thought I would. It's only been a few months since he left Oxford but it seems like ages. He is one of the 'nicest' people I know, and in his case, 'nice' doesn't = boring. We'd often meet up for coffee at 5 o'clock and 8 hours later find ourselves at Hassan's in Broad Street, barely able to stand but giggling like schoolgirls. Ah...good times.
His people are coming with him so I've been told to be on my best behaviour. We'll see...we shall see...


Now listening to: Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover by Sophie B Hawkins


Dampness. It's not a good thing. On Monday at pink drinks and G Bar, lots of the gays smelt damp. The damp smell in question results from clothes being left in the washing machine after they've been washed (I do this quite often). The only way to get rid of the smell is to re-wash them. This fact seems to be eluding the gays. Everywhere I turned, I'd be confronted with the stench of dampness. I do NOT have a sniffing fetish but the room was so tightly packed, I couldn't help but sniff people as I passed.

It's raining and I don't have an umbrella or a jacket. Fuck.

My hero...

Any William Tyndale worshippers out there? Get in touch and we'll worship together.


Currently listening to: Mr Brightside by The Killers.

What the guidebooks don't tell you...

Yesterday, I had lunch at St Cross with Annie. It was one of the best college lunches I've ever had. You get a choice of 2 soups and various breads and bread products, a main course and fruit or yoghurt or cheese board and tea or coffee.

The food was very good, the dining hall is light and airy and the people are friendly. Why can't restaurants be like this?

Anyway, the guy sitting next to me was at Darwin College, Cambridge (which has one of the best bars in Cambridge) and he described Cambridge as a prostitute and Oxford as a meaningful relationship. Cambridge offers everything it has at first glance. It's all there, laid out for you to enjoy. Oxford reveals things slowly. You have to discover them. You stumble across them randomly.

It's a very good analogy, I think. Cambridge...that old whore...

Went to pink-drinks at Magdalen yesterday. They were held in the Oscar Wilde Room. Oscar Wilde was an Irish poet and playwright . He attended Magdalen College but then ended up in prison for buggery. That law has been scrapped though.

At drinks I chatted to 2 of the pleasant people I met at drinks last Monday and a new pleasant person. The two pleasant people from last week were even more pleasant this week (despite being a good deal more sober), the third pleasant person was very, very pleasant.
Annie came along to drinks too. I THINK she enjoyed herself. Lots of lesbians were eyeing her up. Looking her up and down. Undressing her with their eyes. I know I was.

Not really!

After drinks, which were, once again, heaving, we went to G Bar. (4 commas in one sentence and not a single one extraneous). It was okay. I was given the "it's not you, it's me" talk. Apparently, I'm a "great guy" (what the fuck does that mean?). It's almost as insulting as saying someone has a wonderful personality. As in "He's not very attractive but he has a wonderful personality". To make matters worse, he kept apologising. I was like, "Dude, it's okay. Don't worry about it. Really". I clearly didn't mean it but it's best to be grown-up about these things.

Currently listening to: Forever Young by Alphaville

I posted my parents presents for their birthdays which were last week. Fucking Canada Post charged them $33 in Duty! Fucking cheek. I couldn't believe it.

Yesterday at the pub, we had a team-building thing for a couple of hours. We sampled the new menu and tried some wines so we could describe them to customers. One of the activities was to name our favourite song and film. I was stumped. How do you choose just one song? I have a favourite song of the day or week, but how do you choose your favourite song EVER? I didn't fare much better when it came to naming my favourite film either. Stoopid activity.

Now listening to: Strict Machine by Goldfrapp

PS...

Our outing on the river was catastrophic. Our cox hadn't grasped the concept of the "rudder". The "rudder" is used to steer the boat. The concept of "steering" seemed foreign to her too. She didn't seem to understand that it simply isn't done to row into another boat. Boats are expensive and boaties, despite our bulging (ahem) muscles are delicate flowers. Anyway, we had several near misses, some clashing of blades and several "hold it up, HOLD IT UP...oh, fuck, fuck...aaarrrggghhhs".

Currently listening to: Huddle Formation by The Go! Team (very underrated. Have a listen).

Had lunch with Annie today at Georgina's. Had my usual quiche platter. My Waldorf salad is better than theirs. So there. I add a SECRET ingredient, only I know about.

Annie was chatted up by a girl at G Bar yesterday. There is something inherently wrong when my straight ladyfriend gets hit on in a room full of homosexualists but I don't! There is no justice in the world. Admittedly, Annie IS very sexy but still...I'm asking for a refund on that freakin' rohyphnol. I remain barren.

Pumpkin seeds are addictive.

Currently listening to: Straight Life by Black Box Recorder. Strangely appropriate.

Weekend, Book 1

The weekend has flown by.

Friday, I had the most horrific 'date' ever. The problem is, I got my hopes up...6'2, blond, muscular, blue eyes. I mean, how hot is that? Well, not terribly, really. I prefer dark hair but everyone expects blond and blue-eyed to be attractive so I suppose it is, by default. Anyway, rocked up to the appointed place at the appointed time and almost hurled.
6'2: yes
blond: yes
muscular: yes
blue eyes: yes

What the fucker neglected to mention was the DUVET of FAT covering said muscular frame. The thing is, it was a shock but I thought to myself "well, he might be really witty and amusing and charming". How fucking wrong was I? I gave it two hours of my very precious and in demand time and legged it.

Saturday: Went to the Duke of Cambridge for a few cocktails with Annie and Alice. Very pleasant despite being very crowded. There should be an undergrad hour and a happy hour and never the twain shall meet. We sat in a booth...me in the middle, a honey on either side. It was hot. I felt just like a RAP star. All I need now is a few bullet wounds and my transformation will be complete. I'd like to thank my manager and all the fans who bought my records. I'd like to thank my mamma for believing in me but most of all, I'd like to thank God without whom, none of this would have been possible. Peace out.

BANG, BANG!!!


As I was returning to the bar, laden with cocktails, I heard someone say "He was at Cambridge!". I turned to look and it was John! John and I lived in the same building in Newnham for a while. He's very pleasant and I really fancied him that year. I'd often hear him on the phone arguing with his girlfriend. Oh, if only he'd known how happy I could have made him. He was in town for the day with his girlfriend who was an undergrad at Oxford. He's now a solicitor in London and is still HOT.
Anyway, after cocktails we went to Jamals for dinner. Jamals is popular with large groups of students. There were large groups of students there on Saturday night. Oh yes...an entire boat club. They were noisy and twattish and did press-ups next to our table. However, nothing could prepare me for the sight of one of their number hurling into an empty water jug. It was fucking disgusting. I was ready to wretch.

The table next to ours was occupied by two miserable looking women. We thought they were on a date but the fact that they spoke not one word to one another made me think otherwise. If it was a date, it was worse than mine on the previous day. One of them kept glaring at the boaties and the other just kept shovelling curry into her cave-like mouth.

At the end of the meal, the waiter brought over some complimentary ice-cream. It wasted like a Glade Plug-in. For the third time in two days, I almost hurled. It was quite possibly one of the most disgusting things I've ever tasted. It wasn't even so bad that it was good. It went Wwwwaaaayyyy beyond that. It crossed the line that is rarely crossed. Indeed, it crossed the line that should NEVER be crossed.

After dinner we went back to the lovely Annie's room to drink some wine and listen to some tunes. Annie and I have the same taste in men and music. Weird. We could be the same person.

Afterwards, we went to Po Na Na (against my will, I wanted to go to a mates party in Iffley Road but Alice was a bit worse for wear and was in danger of choking on her own vomit). So, crap club it was. I managed to avoid Po Na Na in Cambridge for 5 years but my record is now blemished. Po Na Na was quiet but filled up pretty quickly. Lots of tarty girls and townie boys. I did, however, see one of the few women I'd go breeder for.

After Po Na Na, Annie and I went off to Love Bar in King Edward Street where we proceeded to chat-up the bartender (Steve) who told us where he lived. I wasn't sure if he was being friendly or inviting us around for a 3some. On the dancefloor, a guy came up to me an said, "I know you!". "Erm...?" I thought (I'm very coherent when I'm drunk). "Yeah, you know Ed F____h". I do know the Ed in question. We were DIRTY in Lincoln MCR once. I don't remember meeting this guy though. Anyway, we chatted briefly and then he lurched off.

On leaving the bar, Annie and I realised we were hungry and went to Hassan's in Broad Street. Hassan's was thronged with people. There were throngs of people. Throng was the order of the day. Annie chatted up an lovely boy in an even lovelier suit, sadly, he was just in town for his much less attractive brother's birthday.

Finally stumbled home at 3 and fell into bed.

Woke up feeling like death but managed to carry myself off to chapel.


Currently listening to: Daddy Wasn't There by Ming Tea

Currently looking: uber clean-shaven

Weekend, Book 2

Close Encounters...
Ships that pass in the night...
Close but no cigar...

I won't continue..


Chapel on Sunday was interesting The choir was singing Mozart's Coronation Mass, which is one of my favourite pieces of music, sadly, the Gloria, Sanctus and Agnus Dei got off to ropey starts but got better. Also, I was sitting next to an incredibly attractive man. This NEVER happens to me in Chapel. Well, it may happen all the time but I'm so focused on the business at hand that I never notice those around me (If you believe that, you'll believe anything). So, this guy didn't have a hymnal so I offered to share mine. For a few minutes, we were singing from the same hymn sheet.
Geddit? Did you see what I did there? Hymn sheet? Singing? Oh fuck off.

Everything was fine until it came time to offer him a sign of friendship. I was almost on my knees. But purely from religious fervour. The guy in front of me turned around and offered his hand which I took and murmured "peace be with you" but the fucker squeezed my hand so painfully, I winced. The girl to my right had such a damp hand I had to rummage around for a tissue to wipe her sweat off my palm. Not good.

After chapel, I met up with Oliver who was singing that day and his lady friend who I'd only met briefly. They suggested lunch with one of the lady friend's mates. We went to the Malaysian place in St Michael's Street. The food was inoffensive and reasonably priced. The company, less so. The 'friend' was the most socially inept person I'd met in a long time. She was completely lacking in social skills and basic good manners. Fucking bitch.

After we paid, Oli and I went out and left the ladies to phaff around. Outside the restaurant was a guy holding two enormous canvases and a bag of painting supplies. We smiled at one another and he said something abut how heavy the canvases are or something. I asked if I'd know his work to which he laughed and said he's no artist. He's just moved into a new flat with bare walls and he invited some mates around to eat, drink and paint. I learnt that he was at Balliol, finished in August, is a doctor at the JR, lives in Headington, is a Star Trek fan (as am I, as long as it's the Next Generation). Oli and the girls were tired of looking in shop windows so they went off and left me to my flirting (I thought it was mutual). We chatted for a good 15 minutes. We shook hands and exchanged names and I was on the verge of giving him my card when his bint of a friend appeared. Fucking whore. The three of us chatted for a few minutes when he said they should probably go in and get a table as they were expecting 6 more people. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fortunately, I mentioned I work at the pub so hopefully, he'll come in.

Without revealing too much of my stalker tendencies, I managed to find his surname, his ex-supervisor's name, his place on the University Pool Society league table but no freakin' email . Now what?




Currently listening to: Nancy Boy by Placebo.

Currently contemplating: black eye-liner on men. Incredibly hot.

Judge Judy...

Okay, so this post isn't about Judge Judy but she's just so hot.



So unbelievably tired. Where does the time go?

Why do I agree to do things without first checking I have the time to do them?

Tuesday was my birthday which I was made to celebrate against my will. I wanted to do what I always do on my birthday. Stay in on my own, quaff champagne (Taittinger (this year...courtesy of Attitude magazine) and eat strawberries. But was I allowed to do that? Was I? Was I fuck. "You HAVE to celebrate your birthday". Like fuck I do. But in the end, I did and it was pleasant. Drinks, dinner, more drinks.

Since then, I've been insanely busy. Wednesday, had a busy day at work and went to the Bod. to verify some sources. Deeply tedious but necessary. Did a shift at the pub that evening with Max, Amy and some new girl who was catastrophically slow. Okay, she's never worked in a pub but still...she shouldn't need to ask how to make a G & T. I mean, has she been living in a cave? Once again, a member of staff has been hired because she possesses breasts.

On Thursday, I rowed at 7am. It was a good outing despite the river being FULL of novice crews who think it's acceptable to spin in the narrowest part of the river. We also had an altercation with a Catz boat who went past us at full pressure, stopped about 50 meters in front of us, started to spin and then had the audacity to complain that we didn't have a light so they couldn't see us coming(!). Twats. It was all very gentlemanly though. I've NEVER heard anyone swear either on the bank or in a boat in all the years I've rowed. It's not don't. The cox may mumble "fucking twats" into the cox box but that's as far as it goes. It's an unwritten rule of the river. No swearing. Ever.

Work was interesting yesterday. I had a conference in Reading (the chaviest place I've been in a long time) and was pleasantly surprised to see that one of the solicitors there was an acquaintance. We met at a club in London (Fiction) a few months ago. It was weird seeing him in a suit. Anyway, stayed and had a chat and drank some rank wine afterwards it was all very pleasant and flirtatious. Another pleasant consequence on being in Reading is that as I was waiting for the train back to Oxford, I was chatted up and given a phone number! Hurrah! I still have 'it' despite being a year older.

On my return home, I was even more pleasantly surprised to find an invitation to attend a drinks reception at Canada House. Canada House, in Trafalgar Square, is the Canadian High Commission in London. How hot is that? Still don't know how or why I've been invited but I never turn down free champagne. Besides, I look good in black tie.

Currently listening to A Little Respect by Erasure.

On Monday at pink-drinks, I met a couple of very pleasant people I'm hoping I may see again...

I think I've found my next purchase...http://www.blessedherbs.com/photos2i.html

Happy Birthday...

to ME!!!







Send cash and send it now.


Currently listening to: Nunc Dimittis composed by Josquin

Work and play...

Yesterday, I had the most primitive eye exam. I've ever had. I thought I had been transported to Eastern Europe or something. Maybe even deepest Africa. The exam. began with the normal general health type questions and then she asked me to remove my glasses. It went downhill from there. To begin with, her hands smelt of fish. This is never a good thing, especially not when said hands were mere inches from my rather sensitive nose.

Then, instead of putting my head in some highly technical and advanced, shiny machine thing, she put these 'glasses' on me. I looked like Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. She when proceeded to slot in lenses of various strengths to see if my vision had changed since my last exam. (2 years ago).

Anyway, the whole procedure took almost an hour. A fucking hour for something which usually doesn't take more than 25 minutes. 1 word, bitch...TECHNOLOGY. It's a wonderful things. Makes things much FASTER and less PUNGENT.

That's the last time I go there again.

It clearly won't be. I like getting new glasses every so often (my one vice) so I'll probably be back.

Lots has been happening at work, lately:
-I got my boss' boss to shout at some bint who wasn't doing what I asked her to do (i.e), her freakin' job.
Always go to the top, I always say.
-We all nearly froze to death because the air-conditioning was on MEGA and the control panel is in a locked room to which -we don't have a key.
-The temp has been flirting outrageously with me. Little does she know...
-The new, anti-animal-'rights'-saggy-titted-moron security system is being installed. The building is now more secure than the White House. I wanted electrically-charged gates and guard dogs but they were too expensive. Short-sighted fools.
-I broke the key to my desk which means I can't get to the highly important papers in the drawers and the maintenance people say they have to call a locksmith to fix it. They were deaf to my protestations that I need access to the desk and I need it NOW. Fuckers. There aren't really highly important papers in my desk, BUT, I do have some chocolate, Jaffa Cakes and dried figs.
-The bint who orders the stationery once again fucked -up and we now have 5000 wrong size envelopes. She ordered the MASSIVE ones that X-rays come in.


Academically, I've been asked to give tutorials for another College. This is hugely exciting as I miss the buzz of academia and learning in general.

This evening, Elly, Sam, Barnaby and Patty are coming around for dinner. Patty came last week too. She practically has a key to the house. Patty and Elly have, quite possibly, the filthiest mouths of anyone I know apart from me. This evening should be entertaining as Elly and Sam don't know Patty terribly well (they've only met once before) and it's always hugely amusing watching Elly and Patty restraining themselves for fear of offending the other. Barnaby is also quite amusing and has the most wonderful hair. The clothes situation is something else entirely...

Currently listening to: Milkshake by Kelis