(no subject)
The man who sold me sweets during my entire school life died today. Mum used to work for him so she's pretty upset, though she'd never admit it. He had been suffering from lung cancer for about six months, but a heart-attack killed him. I used to call him 'Uncle Peter'.
Also, I don't think I'll be able to go to my grandmother's christmas party this year, because I'll be in smelly london watching smelly compulsory plays. Had a bit of a cry earlier, because this essay is so, so bad, and things have just been craptacular. Plus I have four hours in SPAR tomorrow. Oh work, how I hate thee.