I have isolated the cause of my achey right eye. It is, as mum suggested, a spot developing on my eyelid; how unfortunate is that? I can see this getting worse before it gets better too....

Goodness. The documentary I just saw on the BBC about St. Paul was one of the most embarassing pieces of television I've seen for some time. It was just like an R.E. program.

Not much done this morning apart from church. My right eye aches for no apparent reason by the way. James' favourite ubiquitous song was on the playlist. Dad's got a new, big, flat monitor, and a new keyboard with transparent black keys and a new mouse with a badly designed (over-sensitive) mouse wheel. Goodness; I have very litle to blog.

Hello. Just got back from church. I would have blogged yesterday, but Dad always turns the computer off when he goes to bed, and I couldn't be bothered sitting through Windoze' loading screens. Nothing much happened yesterday. I got up at the usual time, and looked in the Yellow Pages for work agencies to visit on Monday. I have brought my suit and my haircut with me, you see. Emma suggested I give myslef a typing test to prove I have fingers on my CV. I shall return after this venture, either on Monday evening if I can face it, for I don't really like to arrive somewhere midday, but otherwise on Tuesday. I was going to come back in our naff liitle red car, the Nissan Micra, but Dad had a trademark last-minute idea of lending me the Citroen Xantia for the week. That's what's happening now. Once I get over the anxiety about driving it into a wall, that'll be cool. It's got ridiculous suspension, a CD player and a pretty good ventilation system, though, as anyone who has ever driven with me will know, I prefer the window to be open.

I gave Nick a lift to work about midday. I hope he gets his license before uni. I hope his blog gets more verbose when he's there. I guess it all depends how much unadulterated computer access you get. I was toying with the idea of going into town to investigate the council offices for temporary vacancies, but the lift put a stop in that plan, and I felt lazy thereafter. So I finished The Horse and his Boy. Andy and Charlie were saying how racist the Narnia books are, and Andy said that it started with The Horse and his Boy. He "didn't like those Arabs" (ay-rabs). No I suppose they didn't come out of it too well did they. The Babylonians don't come out of it to well in the OT though. Hmm. I wonder if it gets worse... Also practised the songs for tomorrow.

I watched Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid for the first time yesterday. The old truism - bad people are cool, and good people boring. It's my primary complaint against Ocean's Eleven too. Think upon't; Who are those guys?

This week's Guardian Guide is rather bilious methinks. Some choice selctions.

On Demi Moore:

And we remember toothsome moments of hubris, like this remark: "To me, being a movie star without being respected as an actress would be nothing." This from the star of Disclosure? GI Jane? Ghost? The Juror? Now and Then? Indecent Proposal? OK then, nothing it is.

On tennis:

Why, apart from the superhuman Williams sisters, don't black people play tennis? (Answer: because they are too cool)

Chris Bailey, Mak Cox, Andrew Castle - these are the post-Buster Mottram also-rans of British tennis; the has-beens/never-weres. Dreadful, boring players, they are now dreadful, boring commentators[.]

Henman: Nice Guy, Nearly Man and Tosser Extraordinaire. [...] Take Cliff Richard and cross him with Tony Blair and you get Tim Henman.

On Andrew Motion:

The whole sorry shambles [, a rap written by Motion to be performed by Prince William,] is as excruciatingly Cool Dad as the infamous rave episode of Inspector Morse.

On "Are you happy now?", Michelle Branch:

"No, and nor will I be until te last pouty, angstress female singer-songwriter is hung with the guts of the last gormless talent show muppet."

On Robbie Williams:

[I]n most significant human respects Robbie Williams remains as poor as a church mouse. [...] America's indifference to his charmless buffoonery. [...] Things are not currently going well for Britain's most needlessly tatooed man, something in which the cruel of heart could rejoice, did it not mean he was going to write more songs about it. This, just in case you were in any danger of forgetting, it the terrible Williams mission - to remind us, ad nauseam, how tough it is being Robbie Williams[.]

This morning I packed and prepared for Neil to arrive. I finished fairly quickly and had brief chats with people online. Neil came at about midday and we swapped places; he stays in my place for the weekend, an I use his free St. Loyes' ticket to get home and get a car to take my stuff home in. Before I left we had a brief dinner together of pasta.

The train journey was pretty okay. Nicholas and I occasionally texted each other - we were trying to get to Reading at about the same time - and I finshed The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and started on The Horse and his Boy in between. On the Exeter to Reading leg I sat opposite a couple. Occasionally there was a ratehr worrying smell of gas. Whereas most of the passenger were grining and bearing it, these covered their mouths and noses with handkerchiefs. It's not something you see very often. I got to Reading well before Nick, so I went on the next train. There was a woman on the train who was as anxious about being on the right train as I usally am. "Is this the train for Redhill?" to all and sundry. She was in this way distinguished from the usual, anonymous travellers, and relatively cheery. She had a toy boat in a bag that she was bringing for her son. It was quite fragile, but I alighted at Blackwater without having broken it. Booyah. I rushed up to the Nicoles' (Another vicar family we know) to grab the car and try and get back to the station as early as possible to pick Nick up. It had started raining. I am a brother among brothers, and I mean that in a staggeringly literal way.

We both got back and did various things, like vegetating, and then Mum and Dad showed up later with a caravan, which we manouevered on the driveway. On TotP today, I jnotice a woman who is as Tori Amos would be if she were uninteresting; I forget her name. I liked The Darkness though - rock on. Then Nick and I watched Zoolander (Dad watched some of it) and that's where we are now, see? Oh yeah, and Tania was evicted, as everyone knew she would be, but I didn't watch the 2200 show.

Hello. I am back at Camberley. I appear to be fine. I have begun my new phase of not-really-vegetarianism-at-all-actually, where I don't ever buy or cook meat again, but neither do I turn it down if someone plonks it in front of my face. One day I shall live in my own place and be a proper vegetarian once more. I was never much of a vegetarian anyway.

I left my curtains open when I went to bed to make sure that I got up at 0800. It worked rather too well. I woke at 0500, thought for a bit and then went back to sleep, to have pretty good dream. Not an especially linear one. It involved meeting Derek Burnside on the way to campus and agreeing to climb mountains with him regularly next year. Nina then came along, and I was startled to discover that they knew each other,better than I knew either of them. This somehow segued arbitrarily into my being at Lancaster University. I imagine this is a fairly typical feature of dreams, but I've never bothered to check it out - the dream Lancaster was definitely Lancaster, but it was nothing like Lancaster in real life. It was more like my secondary school, but not very. Anyway, I had dinner with some people there, mass-catering style, at a big table. I knew a lot of the people, but I can't remember who they were exactly now. What I do remember was that the only food was a big OTT cake, like the kind a person might jump out of and wish you a happy birthday. It was not served in my dream, but I recall that a bees nest must have been inside, as they buzzed out of the cracks and returned at intervals. Dreams are great.

Or I guess I could post it now, as I'm at a loose end.

Yesterday started with me checking my e-mail to see if there was any news about going to the zoo, which, as I beleive I had said, my exe-group were planning to go to. There was no such news, so expecting either that they had forgotten about me or that they hadn't managed to organize anything I let Rosie know I was free for the day. It was their last day in Exeter. On balance, not going to the zoo wasn't that perturbing, for it meant I could see some more of them, and also that I didn't spend shedloads of money. I saw the party of zoogoers pass in front of my window after this, meaning that they had forgotten about me and phoned Luke to ask what was going on. The train was leaving in about quarter of an hour. I said I might try and make it, but I didn't really put much effort in, so I didn't.

Will and Rosie dig repetition, so after a bit of sitting round wondering what we might do, we went to town again, and idly perused clothes shops. I don't usually go shopping without a purpose in mind, because I ahve this tendency to see things that I want and then buy them - this is why my bookshelf at home is about 50/50 in terms of whether or not I have actually read them. Three days of exposure to town therefore resulted in a non-essential purpose. It was at least a bargain; The Chronicles of Narnia for £7. I was a bit suspicious, but they haven't exploded or anything, so it's all good. We all grabbed a Boots meal-deal and headed back home.

I guess it must have been almost tea-time, as I don't recall doing anything exciting before the barbecue. Actually, come to think of it, I read all of The Magician's Nephew (Rosie was overawed), so they must have been off doing other things - visiting housemates from last year; that was it. Stella and Luke turned up at the door though, bearing my long-lost bag, which had been in their house after all. I had asked Cla[i?]re, but she had said it wasn't there. No harm done; spare bag. If I'd have known however, I probably would have bought a hold-all rather than a new rucksack. Luke also apologized for my not going to the zoo, which was nice of him, but there wasn't really the remotest possibility of it being his fault.

A barbecue ensued after this, under the bridge at Exwick. Which was nice. Fun with weeds, and lots of whistling, and ducks, and dogs, and smoke, and fire and forks and lettuce. Mino had said that he might show up. Gavin kept on seeing non-Mino persons and thinking that it might be him, but it wasn't. Bit daft really.

Went home, to find James returned, and (face-value) not amused by Andy's hilarious jape oftaking his PCI cards out of his PC. He said he felt more pity than anger. Mino also turned up with Christiana. After a while it was time for Will and Rosie to leave. Gavin rushed everyone to James' room to wave, but I thought I'd sit on the wall outside for that individual touch. While I was waving goodbye to them, Christiana waved to me (I have no memory of her actually attracting my attention) from Mino's window. I squinted a bit, worked out who it was, and waved back. She was quite disappointed that I didn't work out who it was more quickly. Well one can only try. I sort of vaguely read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in various locations. Mino and Christiana argued for a bit in the kitchen. Sensitivity be damned, I was pretty set on watching BB, but they seemed to have calmed down by then. More reading, 'til about 0100, and then I slept.

Well I'm packed and ready to go homefor the weekend about 3.5 hours before I need to be. I always do this. I'll post yesterday this evening.

Ooh. Blogger's interface as become beautiful. How delightful. I think everybody should start a blog just for the new interface - oooh!

I don't think I'm going to the zoo today, how about you, you, you?

Graduate Careers Fair today. I had down in my diary that it was at 1100, but Gavin said it was an early start so I got ready a bit earlier. Why do I listen to Gavin? Anyone? Needless to say I got to campus far too early, but that was okay as I felt I needed to pray anyway, and so I went to the chapel and did so. About ten minutes in a chap went upstairs and started playing the organ, which was nice. I stayed in the alcove lest they should feel self-conscious; they didn't have anyone to turn the page for one thing, but it was very good. They must have been practising for a wedding, because they played the wedding march at one point - it was a bit surreal.

A short time after 1100 I met John and Jenny in the foyer of the Great Hall, and we all wandered round upstairs collecting leaflets. I did pick up some stuff, but not much. Certainly nothing worth mentioning. It seems Ishould have been an engineer, a lawyer, or a financier. Silly of me really. There were also a couple of military stands. Gavin turned up in a suit at one point. It was mostly just the vendors that were dressed up. John and Jenny mentioned about going to the beach, so I agreed to tag along on that. I met Will and Rosie chatting to someone in DH, and then went home to have lunch.

Joe, John and I were well on time for getting the train, but Jenny and her friend Ali strolled onto the train at the last minute without buying tickets. We all got to Exmouth without police intervention however. We took quite an unusual route to the beach, but ended up at the usual place by the octagon. Joe wore a sleeveless top - very peculiar - and proceeded to complain about the sand, which is an odd thing to do upon coming to a large body of sand. It would be far more logical for the sand to complain about Joes coming along and sitting on it. For the purpose of fun, Jenny, after a brief diversion with Ali to buy some drink I think, returned with a beach ball. After some instructional prompting from Jo, who for some reason I haven't mentioned yet, Joe blew it up. And it proceeded to be thrown short distances guardedly, owing to the prominent wind. We didn't do much, but John made a sand fish. John and I went off to play crazy golf, and ended up grass-putting instead. John thinks putting through crazy obstacles is not as good as putting through formed patches of grass. It certainly turned out better for him. I forget the actual score, but on average I was about a stroke behind him on ever hole. John can't imagine me being competitive apparently. I shall show him on Firday when weplay badminton. I have to remind him, says he, Thursday evening. I've just remembered that I shall be out on Thursday evening, having a barbecue at Exmouth. What are the chances eh? Anyway, it's his own fault as he hasn't got a diary. My housemates keep asking me the time, as I have a wristwatch and they don't. Odd. When we got back to the beach, Jenny and Ali had left; they had things to do. Jo and Joe were picking up stuff from the cold, windy beach and it was starting to rain
so we entered the nearest pub; always politic. I had a Newky Brown. Joe's dad doesn't think it qualifies as real beer. After a while in the pub, Jo had to go home and get ready for work. She directed us to a toy shop where John bought a BB gun. Joe says that he spent a significant part of the evening shooting things and watching Friends - reminds me of someone...

Went to mass, and John came along too, only it was not mass, as there were only four of us who weren't a priest, and John and I aren't Catholics anyway. So instead we had [a?] liturgy of the word, which is sort of like a short, speculative bible study with liturgy; Genesis 15:1-18, Psalm 104, Matthew 7:15-20.