First thing I did in town was to get the train ticket: Easter Sunday... Drat! I was going to blog the time that the train left Blackwater, but the woman who served me neglected to put this information on the back of the ticket. I'm fairly sure it was around 1245. You can't reserve seats on the Blackwater to Reading train you see - I expect she thought it wasn't important. I'll check later. Anyway, I said I wanted a single, and she offered me a return. I endeavoured to correct her, but she told me it was cheaper by some eight pounds sterling. Who am I to argue? I had to improvise a return time, so theoretically I'll be coming back here on the Wednesday after, but I've a feeling I'll miss my train. Today must be arbitrary Wednesday day.

I still don't have any actual money from work yet, but, safe in the knowledge that I will on Friday, I sauntered over to MVC because I don't have much music at home, and bought Dvorak's Stabat Mater and some Stravinsky ballet music including, naturally, The Rite of Spring. I had this on Minidisc after copying it off someone in the first year, but then I got on my high horse and deleted it.

Then I did the shopping; ten pounds worth of cans, vegetables and a couple of sandwiches. I don't really eat many vegetarian sausages.

I was getting to be at a bit of a loss for things to do in town before the minibus to work came, so I thought I'd go over to the library to a) see if they had anything I could listen to my albums on (unlikely) and b) whether their internet access was free, so I could blog all this (unlikely) before 2330, or whatever time I posted this, little knowing that blogger would crash and make me blog it all tomorrow in any case. I couldn't do either, but the library does offer free intenet access, which was nice. It's just that some scurrilous rogues were taking advantage of the fact before I wanted to use it.

I then sat around in various locations, and used up my free texts for the day. One such was Vicki Hutton, a friend from A-level, who I haven't seen or texted in quite a while. She's still at university writing essays in Aberystwyth.

I managed at work today. I had a little bit of a headache from about an hour into it, but I took a) some Nurofen and b) it easy, so I survived. By the time I felt fighting fit again, it was the last hour, and no-one else could really be bothered, so I caved in to peer pressure. At the end, those of us from Camberley inexplicably got driven home in a "the blue vectra over there" while two people, one of whom was the driver, took the minibus exclusively to Basingstoke. Today was not a good day to take shopping into work.

Today I heard the new song from Christina Aguilera about a million times. She's on heavy rotation on just about everything I think. It is not an outstanding song. Aguilera she say:

I am beautiful, no matter what they say [...]
I am beautiful in every single way.

Right, so hands up everyone who's been walking round saying "You know that Aguilera? Ugly isn't she?". Anyone? I prefer just to listen to the music*, but apparently Kelly Osbourne and Westlife, and some other people have been. This whole celebrity thing is just one big playground with more bouncers...

Yesterday, says Nick, he had a conversation mostly in French with Will on MSN. He says it was amusing, so I thought I'd post it. I can't make head nor tail of it personally. Update: Autotranslate - the marvels of technology!

Hmm. Richard from Workbase (the agency) just phoned to ask me what days I wanted to work this week. I took the opportunity of exchanging Wednesdays (quite arbitrarily) for Saturdays. Neither me nor Dad know why the chap bothered to ask, but very convenient it was.

An internal memorandum:

MARK
WE ARE OUT OF EGGS; VEGETABLES; VEGGIE SAUSAGES and we are not likely to do shopping until late in the week. 'Twould be a good idea to stock up when you are in town.

Guess I'm going to town early then. I needed to buy my ticket home at some point anyway.

I went to see The Life of David Gale with Ruth this evening, which was nice. I had no idea what I was in for, not having read any reviews or synopses or anything like that, which was quite exciting. There were only four other people in the cinema. It started off terrible, and moved towards standard but engaging - an okay film. It was chock full of cliches, but nyeh. Only two things to say. Firstly that "The Life" is a misnomer, as it focuses only on the years leading to his death. Pedantry concluded, I wanted to say (as the film did actually get to eventually) that in the bible "an eye for an eye" is not the only position expressed. A little while back, my fellow English students in my Shakepeare and Renaissance Tragedy (Renaissance Blood and Death) seminar group expressed dismay regarding Matthew 5:

"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth. But I tell you [something rather different].

There's certainly something to be said for Romans 12:19 too. I scarcely know why I bothered typing all that, the majority of you knowing already I guess, but it seems to be a common misperception. I suppose every little helps.

Ruth mentioned when I dropped her back at her place that she had read that Camberley had the highest proportion of houses with internet access in the country - 66% apparently. Somehow we also came to be trying to remember what singles Zig and Zag off The Big Breakfast released. Ruth enquired whether they did that "rolling, rolling, rolling" one. It's funny 'cos it's true.

I'm going out this evening, so it seemed pertinent to have a nap midday, though I don't like to make a habit of it. I was a bit bored, so I grabbed a Calvin and Hobbes anthology off Neil's shelf and read it prior to the aforementioned. It was very good, so I believe it may have to replace my Dilbert subscription. Dilbert's getting pretty stale. This leaves me open to the charge of wallowing in nostalgia, my other regular read being Peanuts, but this I deny. My childhood was not remotely like Calvin's, and good ol' Charlie Brown? Only vaguely. I found a lot of Calvin and Hobbes quotes on atheist/agnostic sites*, and though "Calvin" immediately brought to mind Mr. predestination, it took me a while to recognise Hobbes as the author of Leviathan which, it always slightly takes me aback to realise, is really a philosophical rather than a purely literary work. In my mind it has associations with Margaret Cavendish's The Blazing World, due to my Civil War module last year. The latter is laughable, so Hobbes has suffrered by the association. One particularly stupid part of Cavendish's opus is when the ostensible heroine, a duchess, basically fools the heathen into worshipping God through the medium of pyrotechnics, somewhat like Hank Morgan in A Connecticut Yankee. She fails to notice any moral contradiction. Bloody token women on literature courses.

All comics mentioned available in one's electronic mail, respectively, hyar, hyar and hyar.

My very first notepadded entry, as blogger seemed to think I had stopped existing for a while. So Nina, if you're reading this*, it's not just Free Open Diary, some people with proper blogs suffer too. Schnarf.

I've just got back from church, where I played guitar. I think I was a bit ropey today, but I'm fairly sure it's always appreciated. Things counting against my performance:

1. See entry below


2. My hands are in a parlous state because of work


3. Mum changed the songs without telling me


4. I was tired, so I only allowed myself half an hour to practise

After a bit of nudging from all and sundry, I got Mum some free flowers from the front. I got her a card of my own volition. She was right - nothing about the transfiguration at all. It was Moses amongst the reeds and Simeon. I think that's John the Baptist's Dad isn't it? Ah, apparently not. But I was nearly right - He's one of those people who crop up only in Luke's gospel because he researched it rather thoroughly, not like that work-shy Mark chap. Shame on me for not paying enough attention to notice it was Jesus they were talking about though. I was probably frantically flicking through Songs of Fellowship.

At the end, Dad said he thought that my guitar playing was coming along nicely, also that he thought I lacked confidence.

I just rechecked the old Google link, and it seems that they do not find my gimmicky form title thing amusing. Ah well - who needs hits? Apparently I do...

<title>an anecdote free zone</title>
<META NAME=DESCRIPTION CONTENT="an anecdote free zone">
<META NAME=KEYWORDS CONTENT="an anecdote free zone, mark dobson">
[...]
<img alt="an anecdote free zone" [...] src="s_angel.jpg" [...]>

Nicholas woke me up this morning, at 0748, which of course was relatively 0648 owing to daylight saving, to ask me whether I wanted to share a mother's day present with him. I politely declined. I would have worked him over with a cricket bat*, but that would have involved getting up.

What I needed after my perturbing late night e-mail reading and early-morning anxiety was a good day's R&R. Unfortunately I still had to go to work. Mum dropped me off at the pickup point, and I sat around hoping that the bus would be late so that I could say "But the bus wasn't there!" in explanation of the fact that I hadn't gone to work. No such luck of course - it duly, dully rolled into sight. It was slightly early, and certain of my colleagues who had said they would be present were notably absent. I even popped my head round the corner to see if anyone else had turned up, but coming from Camberley there was only yours truly. I boarded, finding one driver, and one co-worker from basingstoke inside. It was not exactly a throng. We rolled into the dread industrial estate...

...to find not many people there. One of the regulars rapidly made it apparent that Saturdays were a doss. Things were looking up. You know how on Fridays, in the last hour or so, everything slows down and everyone get's a bit lax in anticpation of the weekend. Well the whole shift was like that. In addition, we got an extra half hour break, during which I watched the conclusion of the England Liechtenstein match, and we also got let off work half an hour early. Everyone was chilled, and the money, at least for me, was better simply because it was the weekend.

Less work + More money = Happier Mark

During the course of my day, I learnt that Tony Hart is sponsoring Drawplus 7. Bless! The other guy from the agency revealed himself to be a stand up sort of a guy, "A+++++++++++ would recommend". Shane, his name is. He kept on enthusiastically pointing out popular hits and how good they were. Apart from one Shania Twain song, and that new one from the girl in Neighbours that was on TotP I think our popular music tastes were pretty much in synch. The only other person I've met who's been so enthusiastic about popular music was the only other male in my A-level English class after Alex left, Craig. He regularly went to the filming of TotP, and genuinely believed Steps to be the best band in the world. Our popular music tastes were not in synch.

On the way back, seeing that I was the only drop-off in Camberley, I asked the driver to drop me off a bit nearer to home, which saved me a walk. This was another good thing.

Will has sent me a Yahoo! Greeting which is addressed "To: Mark and his blog users", so here it is chaps and chapesses - enjoy. Thanks Will.

This morning I have worried extensively about housing, jobs and money, talked about said things with my Dad, Mum and Nan. I also read some of Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals* in the bath and then ate a mango, which my Mum and Nan both found very humorous.

Phil says I shouldn't go to Manchester. Usually, this kind of response indicates that the advisor comes from said location, and thus thinks that it sucks. Some reasons to go to Manchester are that there seem to be a few jobs going and also that Adrian and Emma are there.

Paul has sent James and I an e-mail entitled "i'm leaving you, you cow!" (an Alan Partridge reference) to tell us that he has applied for university accomodation. It's understandable really. However, it means I'm more worried about next year now. I might not be coming back after all...

In fact, perhaps I should go to Manchester... I'll definitely consider it if I can't stay in Exeter.

Will's ostensibly harder quiz, however, I got 50 on.

It's tricky to rock a rhyme
To rock a rhyme that's right on time
It's tricky
[...]
It's Run DMC and Jammaster J!

Cheh, I dunno. It's always the same with Run DMC choons, you wait all week for one and then two come along at once. The first was in the morning, listening to Sara Cox (I must have been delerious), the second at the end of work, which really cheered me up. Or maybe it was just finishing work.

Work was not at all bad today. However, someone did that thing where they pretend to have played a practical joke on you, and really they haven't. I wasn't put out by it, the jest being with sincere good humour I think, but I have never understood what exactly is funny about such things. A representative dialogue, with my actual thoughts instead of words being used:

WAG Mate, there's something on your back...
ME [Looks] Where?
WAG Hehe, just joshing.
ME Were you, by Jove? How lovely for you. Pray excuse me while my sides split.

I mean, I don't mind unless it's done with malice, as it usually isn't, but what's funny about gratuitous lying?

Immediately after the second Run DMC song was one by Misteeq. Now I may as well come right out and say that I rather like Misteeq for two reasons: Primarily because of that one awesome woman in it, Alesha Dixon, who shouts rather excitingly and secondly, because the more successful they become the more cockney they become. I find this rather endearing, despite typically being indifferent to the concept of cockney. I do wonder however, whether they might not have done irreparable damage to the words "mystique" and "Alicia"...

I am eating a quiche. It succeeds the murray mint and the cup of tea I have formerly had marvelously. Update: I have eaten the quiche. It was good.

I got a lift home from my parents tonight. They were driving back from Guilford after seeing Nicholas Dobson: Live and in Concert!. It's a pity I couldn't see the blighter myself, but I'm sure he performed excellently.

Hey, I've been going for a week! I think I'll do a wordcount and see how many of these words should really be in my dissertation rather than online! Hey, it's 3502!

At least I think I've got my titlebar sorted now.

My, but doesn't Google index quickly?

I wasn't so hot on Gavin's quiz either.

Good morning. My Nan came over yesterday. She'd gone to bed by the time I came in however. She and Mum are in the front room doing something. I shall say hello presently. For now, things I need to buy:

Clothes, inc.
- Jeans
- Trainers
- Many many socks
Phone credit
Train ticket
Watch

I just scored badly in Will's quiz. 20 points. C'est la vie. I think a couple of them were trick questions though...

No exciting news from me, but some exciting news from Nicholas: he's got a music scholarship at Swansea - Hip, Hip - Huzzah! It's £1000 a year for participating in extra-curricular musical activities and "getting better at music", which he was going to do anyway. Interestingly, he's got it despite his degree choice at Swansea being English and French. He'll be some kind of renaissance man by the time he finishes with all that. Not like me.

Work today was okay, better than yesterday. One notably better thing about it was that I got free M&Ms when they fell out of the vending machine. Can't say fairer than that. Everyone complained about the job afterwards. I'm going to see if I can stick it out for three weeks. I imagine they think only a nutjob capable of such a thing. Well I'll show them!

On the way back, I noticed a peculiar thing. On the part of the A30 which adjoins the town centre, a railing used to divide the road into dual carriageway. That railing has now gone, with the result that it now has a sort of long traffic island instead. This is awesome, because it means I can cross the road when I want to, and not when some idiotic town planner thinks that I should. The most remarkable thing about this is that the railing was there yesterday, which means that workmen must have done the job within a period of twenty-four hours, on a main road, not to mention removing obstructions. This is clearly not the case, and I am wondering when the prankster will own up. On a similar note, I learn that - well I'll start at the start:

There is a roundabout on the A30 near us called the Jolly Farmer. Oddly, it has been used quite a few times as a suitable place for a pub/restaurant. The Mongolian Barbecue, which was the last of these ventures, closed down a while back. Now Burger King applied for planning permission to build a drive through there. This is an even more stupid idea, in terms of convenience, than having a restaurant. Also, this did not please our Collingwood College, which I went to, many moons ago, because they suspect that should such an edifice be erected, their students would run over and get run over. So planning permission was denied. Hooray! The thing is - the business which is to set up shop there is a golfing supplies shop. When I went to Collingwood however, there was a significant minority of pupils that might have run out into the road for golf supplies...

I went straight into snack mode when I got back, as I neglected to prepare foodstuffs for work. I ate the remaining brie, most of which went missing on the day of purchase, even though Mum didn't think that I would be capable of eating it all. I wonder if you're meant to eat the rind...

Nicholas has bought a new stereo. So he can listen to French radio apparently. I shall investigate on the morrow. Wow! He tells me it has three Cd slots. I'd love that.

Good morning. I don't expect much of note to happen on a daily basis these days, so if I do not blog, it's not because I've forgotten. Now I've started this entry however, I will say that I watched the The Charlie Brown and Snoopy Show or as Boomerang has it, Snoopy. I enjoyed it as usual.

I think Adrian has intentions to update this (correction: this) at some point. He asked me about where he could learn HTML. I just mistyped "point" as "pint". This might be because I was dying for one yesterday, post-work being the ideal time for one. However (and now it is on the blog I shall make a habit of not telling anyone else because I'm bored with it now), I have given up alcohol for lent. No dice.

I put links into my title bar yesterday, and as you can see, it now looks ugly. I'll sort it out later. Have fun.

Back from work. It was about as tedious as I was expecting. I wasn't expecting my hands to be this dirty however. The things you learn, eh? I won't go into particulars, the particulars not being exciting. Iris Murdoch can make the mundane very interesting indeed, which is why I don't mind dissertating upon her, and Will seems to be a genuine admirer of the ordinary, which is a peculiar, but probably admirable trait.

Mum (I think) offered me a lift home. I thought she meant from Guildford, but obviously she meant from where I was going to be dropped off in Camberley. I rather liked the walk home though, so I think I shall continue to do so. I was toying with the idea of taking my minidisc, but the monsters know you can't hear them if you listen to music at night. Also I don't have it with me.

Good morning. Last night I dreamt that a contemporary of mine, in the English department, who I know but slightly, asked me if I would marry her when we were leaving a lecture or somesuch. My immediate idea was that it was probably for tax reasons or somesuch, but it seemed untactful to proceed along these lines, so I just said "What?" She looked exasperated and said not to mind. Down the stairs we went, with everyone else, she directly ahead of me, audibly singing a love song. I couldn't make out the words. At the bottom of the stairs she turned round and said, emphatically, "No, seriously." I refrain from any attempt at analysis.

Today I have to be in town for 1330. This is so that I get transported into Guildford, for my shift, which I believe I have not mentioned is a 1400-2200. For this reason I got up two hours later than my usual bright and breezy 0800.

Well fancy that. Who would've thought that I'd stumble on a way to make an uneditable/deletable post so soon. You just start an A HREF tag and omit to close it. Anyway, as I was saying...

On the drive back home, I became rather frustrated with the sun-roof, which I could not close, due to its nasty design, and not due to any fault with me - nosiree. It's not my fault if people design counter-intuitive devices. Anyway, for whatever reason, I drove back freezing. I think I shall go to bed now.

Well, I've just got back from the pub, whose name I can't remember, where I was on the victorious side in a pub quiz with Ruth, whose name I can remember, and a couple of her mates. It was nice, but very quiet. There were only actually two teams, but we still won respectably: only got 10 questions wrong, which is apparently a team record. Well what can I say? Her friends weren't very communicative. Dave, whom I have met three times, is a person that I have never encountered when sober. He was solipsistically merry, but smiling benignly. Her other friend, Lawrence/Laurence was the same, but rather more reserved than he was cheerful. He occasionally became very enthusiastic regarding the accuracy of our answers. I shall see a film with Ruth on Sunday hopefully.

On the drive back

John just reminded me on his blog that Mothering Sunday* is coming up. My Mum also mentioned it this morning in Tescos, because she was being a good relative and buying cards for birthdays and suchlike.

"You mean Mothering Sunday's in Lent?", says I.
"Yes - it means the transfiguration gets left out.", says my progenitor.
"?!?!?", I emote.

Honestly, I ask you...

Well fancy that. I got a job really quickly. It's nothing special; just a job in the sorting office at Guildford, but what it does mean is that money will actually be coming in rather than going out. It's quite a refreshing concept. This means that I now intend to go back to Exeter a week early. Because I have done so little work on my dissertation, it'd be a good idea to take a week out to do it.

Wahey; I believe quasi-footnotes* are go!

Good morning. Today's plan is to go shopping with Mum, then go into town and speak to some representatives of temping agencies, look for work more generally, unpack properly, and then write 500 words of dissertation. I might play some guitar too, and work out a way of putting footnotes in this thing, as it would reduce the number of clauses, thus rendering it more legible.

Today's waking-up soundtrack comprised Nicholas' first Winnie the Pooh CD ("Well, even if I'm in the moon, I needn't face downwards all the time.") , and then "A boy like that & I have a Love" and "The Dance at the Gym" from West Side Story. Bernstein rules.

Pah. That was a long wait for nothing. It seems I misinterpreted (not misread) the sign outside St. Peter & St. Paul's. It said mass was on at eight in the evening on "Holy Days". I thought that would've included Sundays. I guess I'll catch them on the flipside.

In other news, Neil's gone back to Exeter. He comes back every other weekend, due to some quirkiness of the terms at Loyes. My parent's got back from Manchester, where they were helping my lovely brother (Adrian) and his lovely bride-to-be (Emma) move stuff around. They got a new pad recently. Mum had also done some more research on our family history. The amount of effort she is going to is rather impressive. My great great great grandmother, Emma Simpson, apparently shared my birthday as did my great great grandfather, Alfred Cornish. He was a butcher, on Mum's side, and Emma was married to a hatter, on Dad's side.

Nicholas is out now, but I'm trying to persuade him to start a blog, at least when he goes to uni, so I can read all about his exploits. That'd be cool. I don't know what he's doing out, but it may well involve music. He's a busy lad.

Woke up this morning. Was immediately bewildered by the discrepancy between my two timekeeping devices. My mobile said it was 0640, my radio 1040. In the latter case, this would meant that I had overslept and missed communion at St. Martin's. Knowing this to be a logical impossibility, I stayed in bed listening to Radio 3, then Death to the Pixies and then some Dizzy Gillespie.

When I did get up, I fiddled around with the Choral Society website, but as I have no FTP program installed, and can't remember the upload path, it remains rather similar to how it was yesterday. I mucked about with the stylesheets for my comments box (again, no possibility of uploading) until I actually was late for church, from whence I have now returned. Aesthetically, it was not a very good service, but this seemed particularly not to matter today, and I suspect that on the level at which church is meant to work, it did. Hallelu, and indeed, Jah. I will go to my local, hopefully friendly, Catholic church at 2000 and case the joint for holiness.

A lenten reflection:

In "Chop Suey" (by System of a Down, for those of you who don't know all about popular music), what precisely is the deal with the Jesus references?

I don't think you
Trust in my self-righteous suicide
[...]
Father into your hands
I commend my spirit
[...]
Why have you forsaken me?

I can't detect a particular agenda - just seems odd.

1652 - Light from the gap in Dad's curtains fall precisely onto the monitor.

I've been back a little while now, but Neil and Gretel have been doing computery things. I gather Gretel's getting a new one. The journey was uneventful, nicely brief, and sunny. Gradually the scenery changed from being a lot of lustrous Devon foliage, to being intermittent compilations of tedious, red-brick, mock-tudor-fronted estates, and I was back.

Kindly, Neil asked me whether I wanted picking up from the station yesterday. It hadn't occurred to me that I might need a lift. My arrival is apparently a surprise to everyone down here. Anyway, I blog this merely to mention that he drove me back in a Nissan Micra! It seems that the sponsorship deal has expanded Anglicans these days. (Alas poor Tipo) On the way, we popped into the covered shopping bit in Camberly; I've completely forgotten what it's called. Centrally placed was some kind of fashion show - it was very amusing. First time I strolled past, I could see a cluster of Blazin'-squad-alikes doing a sappy (nu) garage-style dance. Bless. When I walked back, there were people parading in costumes. Now this was odd, because although it was a fashion show, the young women were dressed like that woman in Lovejoy, the first one (Lady Jane?) and were hence deeply unfashionable. Actually come to think of it, this is Surrey... Both these of the event shocked and disturbed me - there wasn't much evident publicity so I bemusedly gained the attention of a standing, um, shopping-area attendant watching the performance (to stop rioting?) and asked the severely direct question "Uh, what is this?". Her reasonable response that it was a fashion show failed to ease my mind.

Hmm. I expect it was naive of me to assume that temping agencies would take calls on Saturdays. I had better call in today.

Aaaarrrrgggghhhhhh! I just realised that I have to leave my amp behind. Still worse, my stereo at home irritates the hell out of me, for it has, horrors of horrors - digital volume control! On the plus side, I should have a CD separate on the return voyage.

And they're off, bringing the house occupant count down to four. Andy left yesterday, but never mentioned it to me. Perhaps he didn't think I was in - that has certainly been known. Fairly recently he informed James that he had been home on his own, whereas in fact Paul and myself were both in our rooms.

I think everyone else except James is leaving today. Ella comes down for a week's holiday in Devon about two hours after I leave. Doh!

Gavin's parents are here! They are staying for a cup of coffee I think, but then heading off. It's the rugby you see. They wonder, after I mentioned the plans for my own exit, why Gavin couldn't get the train back. So do I actually; and Paul. It's a schkank!

Got to bed about 2230 last night after drumming up some enthusiasm for recycling and, after some interval, finishing watching Sharpe's Eagle with James.

Well, here it is, Saturday morning. Home time. As usual, I'm the only person up, and to make matters worse, despite Spongebob Squarepants' appearance in the schedules last week, I can't seem to find him again. Great weather though. I have an idea that the weather at weekends is, by an large, immune to sod's law, England being the realm of sod's law generally. I've got most of my stuff in a big suitcase, and am sitting around typing this. At 1030 approx, James and myself will wander over to Nina's and request some cushions of her. Awesome.

James has acquired this absurd idea that my blog represents a threat to his... custom.

I think theres a large body of readers who only read it to see what our house is up too and will find it better logged at your blog

There are a few reasons why my march into recorded mundanity need not be feared:

The "large body", I expect, which would rather hear my version of events than his, will only consist of some of the people who know me personally. This is a relatively small subset I think. By far the majority of his readers must surely be catholics looking for a catholic blog. This is evinced by the dramatic number of referrals from Mark Shea, webrings, Nihil Obstat and our friend Victor. I do not have a rapport with the estimable Mr. Lams, nor do I expect to have one anytime soon.

I do not have pictures. Will hurriedly expressed his preference for pictures, which add a huge amount to James' blog.

People get bored of faffy language quite quickly.

It occurs to me that I might get a link by commending James' blog gratuitously here. But I won't; it seems a bit artificial. I expect it will continue to oustrip my own blog's popularity in any case, and long may it do so.

Top of the Pops was unusually good today I thought. The Sugababes did another very hummable rendering of that Sting song at the end of Leon. There were two 'rock' bands on, one relatively mainline group called something like okyeah and another Irish band who weren't really emo, but their singer wanted them to be. Placebo seem to be back with a back-to-basics approach, which suits me just fine. Something should be done about that Brian Molko - that much androgynous charm needs some kind of health warning.

Whilst tidying myself up a bit, i accidentally obtained an obscene amount of moisturizer. Hmm. I don't know what other people would do in such a situation, but I thought it'd be quite amusing to moisturize my forearms.... Well, you know.

Back. Things to do:

Regain vim and vigour - Eating
Notice appearance - Grooming
Embrace futility - Washing up & the Kitchen
Pack
Grasp fitfully at money - Phone agencies

Goodness, how predictable. I got bored of waiting for the bus, so I steamed up the hill to campus, steaming being my default walking speed, printed off my essay, a title sheet and filled in the form that you have to. And now I've run out of stuff to do on campus before anything opens.

At least it's a change of scenery. The bulbs seem okay - no-one decided to recklessly trample them in the night.

It occurs to me that I could (gosh - I don't know the correct terminology!) celebrate(?) compline now, it being the night 'n all that.

Oh no, wait... I think's it's more likely to be lauds now. How silly of me. At any rate, in my recent skirting round the edges of Roman Catholicism (what kind of a world is it where capitalization is a theological issue?) I found these, and along with Sacred Space they are sometimes a particularly useful aid to prayer.

Mino just popped his head out of the door and looked at me quizically. I can't remember how I responded, but I expect it was scrupulously appropriate.

Well here it is, my blog. It's not looking as good as I hoped it might, but at least I'm not using a template.

I'm currently in my room, waiting till... mebbe half seven or some such time. I finished my essay around two and bounded up to campus to find that the printers stop working after 0100 - I guess they don't want people like me cheekily using up all the paper.

The trip was not a total waste of time though, as I saw:

1. A badger


2. Some "emerging spring bulbs"


3. A sign which said that the Guild sandwich-bar's special was "No Chicken Mayo"

Since then, I've been designing this blog, as I got back at about three without much to do except sleep. Unusually, I was not in the mood for sleep. Plenty of time for that tomorrow...