Alex drinks out of jam jars.
Apparently, according to my professor, no, according to P. Toohey, "an epic is a long narrative, written in hexameters, concentrating on the fortunes of a great hero or civilisation, and the interaction of this hero/civilisation with the gods...it generally involves glorification of the past." Dr.Driskill made Homer enjoyable, now reading the Odyssey is a chore. I sit in front of the book staring at the sheets of paper that cost me 8.99 to buy. The seminars ought to reawaken my love for literature, so I should look forward to that.
I have a cut on my hand and bruises on my upper legs. If I could go back in time I'd go to scrutinise my every move over the past few days just to find out how I managed to abuse myself. Before anyone asks, no, I haven't blacked out, I have been drinking moderately.
Alex was waiting for me in the Student Union from 1:10. I arrived at 1:20 because I wanted to go home and get Clarke's CD. I met Alex and went back to Claycroft. I had cheese and crackers while Clarke's CD sat on my desk feeling neglected. Forgetfulness isn't a crime. I will return it tomorrow, the way I've not been going to the gym when I've been saying I will.
I had all my swimming gear when I left Claycroft, I swiped my NUS card and felt a pain in my stomach. Apparently my ovaries were against me swimming today. I paid 80 pounds to use the gym and now my period has to stop me from using my membership. Thanks a bunch.
I fried bananas and covered them in custard for desert. The risotto that Katie made was amazing too. Dinner was yet another success. Alex is going to London to pick up his girlfriend on Saturday, she's from Canada, but he doesn't seem to want her to come. He said this as he sipped tea out of his jam jar. His explanation for his use of a jam jar as a mug was classic. Exactly when it started to rain I walked back to Cryfield with Alex. He is more of a chocoholic than I am. He walked with me so that he could go to Costcutter's to get a bar of chocolate. Maybe his jam jar can tell me why he didn't just go to Tesco's, which is infinitely closer to Claycroft.
Warren and I ate some of the Pakistani people's food. It was spicy. My chewing gum was on fire. Later Matt, Mark, Katie (my Katie) and I cleaned the mess they had left in the kitchen. We sat with Lucy and Rajiv discussing British slang. Rajiv's beer only cost him 22p per can. He had a picture from Halloween and he showed us his phone saying, "this is me." The "me" was wearing a vest and lying on a bed. Nobody really thought of commenting. It was actually his dad, the first picture he took on his phone, apparently. Prince Harry thought he had dressed as a low budget porn star. Matt looks like a spitting image of Prince Harry. He hates it. I like it. Katie works at Buckingham palace during the summer. Matt is going to be exploited this summer, methinks.
Alex doesn't want to go to London. Tom does. I do too.
Joe will turn 19 tomorrow but I can't contact him because he is taking MORSE. He has to stay at home and study while his friends party and the internet isn't working for all the mac users on campus. This post is already one day old.
I have a cut on my hand and bruises on my upper legs. If I could go back in time I'd go to scrutinise my every move over the past few days just to find out how I managed to abuse myself. Before anyone asks, no, I haven't blacked out, I have been drinking moderately.
Alex was waiting for me in the Student Union from 1:10. I arrived at 1:20 because I wanted to go home and get Clarke's CD. I met Alex and went back to Claycroft. I had cheese and crackers while Clarke's CD sat on my desk feeling neglected. Forgetfulness isn't a crime. I will return it tomorrow, the way I've not been going to the gym when I've been saying I will.
I had all my swimming gear when I left Claycroft, I swiped my NUS card and felt a pain in my stomach. Apparently my ovaries were against me swimming today. I paid 80 pounds to use the gym and now my period has to stop me from using my membership. Thanks a bunch.
I fried bananas and covered them in custard for desert. The risotto that Katie made was amazing too. Dinner was yet another success. Alex is going to London to pick up his girlfriend on Saturday, she's from Canada, but he doesn't seem to want her to come. He said this as he sipped tea out of his jam jar. His explanation for his use of a jam jar as a mug was classic. Exactly when it started to rain I walked back to Cryfield with Alex. He is more of a chocoholic than I am. He walked with me so that he could go to Costcutter's to get a bar of chocolate. Maybe his jam jar can tell me why he didn't just go to Tesco's, which is infinitely closer to Claycroft.
Warren and I ate some of the Pakistani people's food. It was spicy. My chewing gum was on fire. Later Matt, Mark, Katie (my Katie) and I cleaned the mess they had left in the kitchen. We sat with Lucy and Rajiv discussing British slang. Rajiv's beer only cost him 22p per can. He had a picture from Halloween and he showed us his phone saying, "this is me." The "me" was wearing a vest and lying on a bed. Nobody really thought of commenting. It was actually his dad, the first picture he took on his phone, apparently. Prince Harry thought he had dressed as a low budget porn star. Matt looks like a spitting image of Prince Harry. He hates it. I like it. Katie works at Buckingham palace during the summer. Matt is going to be exploited this summer, methinks.
Alex doesn't want to go to London. Tom does. I do too.
Joe will turn 19 tomorrow but I can't contact him because he is taking MORSE. He has to stay at home and study while his friends party and the internet isn't working for all the mac users on campus. This post is already one day old.