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phone back in action

Nov. 8th, 2005 | 06:17 pm
mood: groggygroggy

...thank God. But it was rather nice to have it so silent. Then again, Sod's Law operates - when you want it to ring it doesn't, and when you don't -

Raclette! Guacamole! Oh, to sit in a bed of pitta bread, taramosalata and guacamole. And cheese.

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(no subject)

Nov. 7th, 2005 | 04:42 pm
mood: apatheticapathetic

Thursday - sent off my scholarship form for the Middle Temple. Please give me some money, please...Friday, met up with Jonn and his friend Stu, who I hadn't seen since a "Palindrome Party" in 2002 hosted by a man dressed as a flet elf who could solve a rubix cube in about 40 seconds and two pvc-clad lesbians who took great delight in spanking each other. Met up in the Arms, then for a change of scene went to Birkbeck bar where Mercedes, Ish, Nico and Mike happened to be. Man in orange Guantanamo boiler suit and a shepherd's crook died an excruciating death on stage doing political stand-up.

We all ended up in Ish's office with a bottle of Malibu and this very shaggy bloke. Didn't realise until a few hours later that the shaggy bloke was the chap in the boiler suit, even although I was complimenting him on his crook. Had a long discussion on the nature of platonic relationships. Turns out he was the "Comedy Terrorist" who gatecrashed Prince William's 21st; found this very sound article by Jon Ronson about him.

Shaggy bloke the last to leave; Ish and I ended up kipping in the office. Had lunch, then went to SOAS for the first time in months; went up to the 4th floor balconies for the first time, as well as the recording studio where Ish's friend Satinder was doing very impressive things with the mixing desk. Didn't want to disturb him, so went into the recording room(?), got a little bored, then Ish found some duct tape and playfully tied me to a chair. And took some photographs. Then got up, shut the double doors, and left. Considered this was one of those law cases you read about where you wonder how on earth the victim got into the situation in the first place - "well, I thought it would be a fun idea to let him tie me to a chair in the only sound-proofed room in a building not generally open at the weekend" - but he did leave his bag behind so I wasn't worried in the least. However, after about 15 minutes I baby-stepped my way to the window (legs tied) and tried to get Satinder's attention, which was difficult because the room lights were off and, as it turned out, he thought I'd left with Ish. Who then decided to come back at exactly that moment.

Later, back in Ish's office, met a nice chap called Dylan who was trying to set up a Birkbeck Psychologists' Society but couldn't due to the level of aggressive sexual tension on the committee.

Then, a sensible Sunday.

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invisible and speechless...

Nov. 6th, 2005 | 03:38 pm
mood: ditzyditzy

my phone's gone - 2 to 5 working days 'til I get a replacement sim (new upgrade now has to be used - couldn't bear swapping them earlier; didn't want to read the manual). Where did I lose it? Well, the last place I lost it.

Sodding, sodding Hanway Street...and I wasn't even pissed either. Battery died, left phone on lap, standing up to leave - I could see it so clearly slipping to the floor, but by that time it was a few hours too late to pick it up. Very clever.

What's the bloody point of insurance when they still insist on charging me 17 quid for a replacement I ask you??

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(no subject)

Nov. 2nd, 2005 | 06:47 pm
mood: lethargiclethargic

Storm in teacup over Mark - after Monday's little exam, immediately did a "Christ, what was that about? We were really pissed, weren't we?" and just put it down to that. Met up with Mike later, and did the usual Troy excursion. Pissed but charming young Carol Vorderman lookalike lost her jacket, got rather upset as it had her gran's brooch on it, and left with a chap. Found it, so we'll be meeting up on Monday to exchange jacket/pint.

Am sticking surplus photos on Flickr (tip from Liz), so less photo goobing up the works here. Just a few pics of Yangon/KL so far; dunno how to put a link permanently on the side of this page....Tania? What do I do? Anyway, for bits of random stuff, click here.

Phhh. Wednesday. Just heard from flatmates that a small baby was found dead in a bin near here earlier today. Walking back, didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, so am just hoping it was a bit of weird urban gossip - after all, just in Liverpool recently rumours of a small fetus being found in a street brought out the teddy bears and flowers; it turned out to be a bit of chicken (The Independent - also, a little mention in the piece that this should qualify Boris Johnson to an apology).

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Oct. 30th, 2005 | 08:48 pm
mood: nostalgicnostalgic

Went off to Edinburgh to remind family what I look like. Restful haggis-munching and copious Dr Who watching, crochet and reading. Pictures, but left camera cable up there - so they'll come later.

Back on Friday, met up with Pat, Liz, Mercedes and Mark's lot. Mark. Eeek. By the end of the evening was very repelled by wonderful phrases such as "I think I understand you better than anyone else", "Going out would be a wonderful idea, we'd be so good together" and "Don't run away, we have to talk about this - I don't fucking deserve this". Christ. Needless to say, I ran away. Realised that I'd been there before, and didn't fancy going there again (the moment being when I exasperatedly went "Look, Patrick!" at him). I hate being railroaded; also, I don't like being misinterpreted so hideously as it makes me think I need to undergo a policy change when it comes to shooting the breeze with chaps. However, I've never been shot at so furiously before by someone I've had such a tenuous link with, so not mulling over this too much.

Good thing came out of it - the realisation that (a) more caution is necessary with earnest types. We're so utterly different when it comes to absolutely everything, so more fool me that I should be surprised by the level of arm-twisting based on my usual flirty cosiness combined with my tolerance of him going a wee bit too far at times. (b)Never try to argue with a wannabe politician.

Dinner with Pat yesterday - char hkway teow (flat, thick gelatinous rice noodle stirfried with soy sauce, beansprout and king prawn) and ice kacang that Pat refused to touch, refusing to recognise sweetcorn and kidney bean as constituent parts of proper dessert. Malaysian chef - shall show the comparison between the proper kacang and this one when my cable arrives back. Took home some falafels from Pat's fridge (now stockist to Harrods! - possibly, at some point soon), but they were already beginning to turn and tasted a bit paint-like and fizzy. It had been so long (pre-Malaysia) since I'd had them, I doused them with salad cream and finished all three. No side-effects to report.

Checked out an old friend's website, Advaith. Haven't seen him in yonks. Wonderful day years ago back in Cambridge jointly procrastinating by gadding about Magdelene gardens. Advaith gave me a penholder carved from a coconut into a monkey; we span it round on the pavement to find out what direction to walk in after the gardens. Spinning it three times, every path ended with a sighting of Rory McGrath in different parts of town.

Picture of Mum looking adoringly at Richard Morgan balancing a bottle of vodka on his head at her Hogmanay 2002 party/my birthday, from one of Advaith's pages.

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