This town is 'comin like a ghost town.

Weird at work today. Ralph was the only person in before me whereas I arrive relatively late. It was news to me, but apparently we're meant to have office cover from seven. Fancy that.

Anyway, the weekend. Everyone buggered off. It was just James and myself. Horrified at the prospect of this, I hastily suggested that we do the rail ale trail, especially as this was pretty much the last weekend that such a thing was possible. Thus it was that we broke into Rob's room (beg pardon) to give a solid timetable-based foundation to said crazy scheme. And to mess up his instant-messaging affairs.

It was a bit last-minute, so we texted Lisa and Zosia as soon as. They were out clubbing or some such nonsense, so they couldn't respond. But we kindly woke them up in the morning. Bearing this in mind, they were remarkably obliging, the only provison being that we got a later train, which wasn't ideal, but very accpetable, given the circumstances. For some reason James thought we should ask Lisa's permission before asking Amy (well, it was something to do with marginally upping the cost) but we like Amy and probably would have anyway.

Always difficult to blog pubbage. Went straight out to Barnstaple past a very interesting looking cheese shop. We talked crap in some pubs, jumped over some walls, looked at some cows, played skittles, juggled skittles, lost our leaflets (which were out of date anyway) and drank merely six pints (those who were drinking anyway). I think that'll have to do. Oh, and Amy jumped in puddles. I forget what we did when we got back, but I expect it involved going to bed too late.

Sunday morning. Now... Sunday morning, for reasons which elude me... seemed more wobbly than most Sunday mornings do. I skipped breakfast. Mass was Zosia's mass. That is what liturgy means you see. And we sung the Magnificat in place of a Psalm. I thought my guitar playing was well dodgy, but people disagreed, which I suppose they're entitled to.

It was Zosia's last mass. By this it is meant that it was Zosia's last mass at the chaplaincy. By this, of course, is meant that it was Zosia's last Sunday mass at the chaplaincy. This means that it was Zosia's last Sunday mass at the chaplaincy, at least until she visits in fresher's week. [cough.]

Now, for reasons which, as is their wont, escape me, though it is Zosia who is leaving, I received a lovely present from her, and, as yet, have no lovely present of equivalent significance to give her. Hmm. Anyway, it was The Little Prince, of whihc I know I have seen a copy many times on my parents' bookshelf, but never read, 'cos it looks rubbish. It is not rubbish. Thank you again Zosia. By the way, I must say that the idea of your The Little Prince Returns or whatever it was called, seems rather to undermine the grand concept towards which the narrative tends. [cough.]

What a long entry. Better get my nose back to the grind-stone.