Michael? I've just seen a bee!
Dear, I know nothing of
Either, but when I try to imagine a faultless love
Or the life to come, what I hear is the murmur
Of underground streams, what I see is a limestone landscape.
Reading poetry? I must have exams on novels. Really rather disappointed in myself for not doing any work again, but I only have myself to blame. Again. I do rather feel like I ought to have learned these lessons a long time ago.
Exam time means absolute social death in St. Andrews. It's a bit eerie. We went to Aik's pub quiz yesterday - only 4 teams because of examness, and we still lost. Even to a team of one person. Oh yes, we're that great. Despite the dirth of entertainments up here, however, I went to an old school house party on Friday. The fact that it was fancy dress only made it marginally better that Death apparently wanted to get in my pants. I'm half convinced that he thought I was a hallucination, but I'm willing to admit that although most of the time I elicit absolutely no comment, for some reason at parties at this particular house, people think I'm great for up to 25 minutes, before they realise it's not originality, it's just booze. I'm like a cross between Cinderella and Anneka Rice.
Got to do a walk of shame (not really shame, I just sat up having a hideously disturbing conversation with middle aged men and eating pistachios until Liz worked up the courage to kick them out) in the worst Minnie the Minx costume ever, and skipped all the way home. Well, not all the way. It's uphill. Anyway, the point is, it's not been all bad, but mostly things are rather monotonous, and even the gossip's got really old.
I have to get into shape. I have bingo wings and keep eating cauliflower cheese slices from Tescos (but man, they're good). I have mental montages of me working out at a gym, but that's probably never going to happen. I'd go swimming, but you'd be surprised how terrifying swimming pools are when you can't actually see further than 2 feet away from you. Like swimming in an impressionist painting. I dunno. I reckon I'll just sit around eating ice lollies and watch the pounds magically shed off through positive thought. Yeah.
Either, but when I try to imagine a faultless love
Or the life to come, what I hear is the murmur
Of underground streams, what I see is a limestone landscape.
Reading poetry? I must have exams on novels. Really rather disappointed in myself for not doing any work again, but I only have myself to blame. Again. I do rather feel like I ought to have learned these lessons a long time ago.
Exam time means absolute social death in St. Andrews. It's a bit eerie. We went to Aik's pub quiz yesterday - only 4 teams because of examness, and we still lost. Even to a team of one person. Oh yes, we're that great. Despite the dirth of entertainments up here, however, I went to an old school house party on Friday. The fact that it was fancy dress only made it marginally better that Death apparently wanted to get in my pants. I'm half convinced that he thought I was a hallucination, but I'm willing to admit that although most of the time I elicit absolutely no comment, for some reason at parties at this particular house, people think I'm great for up to 25 minutes, before they realise it's not originality, it's just booze. I'm like a cross between Cinderella and Anneka Rice.
Got to do a walk of shame (not really shame, I just sat up having a hideously disturbing conversation with middle aged men and eating pistachios until Liz worked up the courage to kick them out) in the worst Minnie the Minx costume ever, and skipped all the way home. Well, not all the way. It's uphill. Anyway, the point is, it's not been all bad, but mostly things are rather monotonous, and even the gossip's got really old.
I have to get into shape. I have bingo wings and keep eating cauliflower cheese slices from Tescos (but man, they're good). I have mental montages of me working out at a gym, but that's probably never going to happen. I'd go swimming, but you'd be surprised how terrifying swimming pools are when you can't actually see further than 2 feet away from you. Like swimming in an impressionist painting. I dunno. I reckon I'll just sit around eating ice lollies and watch the pounds magically shed off through positive thought. Yeah.