Don't let's start

If there was an underlying theme for today, it was doubtless that of me making an idiot of myself. Evidence of this can be seen as early as quarter past seven in the morning, a mere thirty seconds after my alarm went off. My alarm is actually my phone, which sits on my desk so it can charge. This means I have to actually get out of bed to turn it off. So, I perched on the end of the bed, reaching out. It was seven fifteen. It was dark. I tend to misjudge distance.

Um, oww. The world is a harsh and unforgiving place when you have just landed on your bedroom floor with a painful thump, causing the bra you forgot to take off the night before to jam itself into you, removing skin in the process. I know, I know, TMI. I have to say, I think I was entirely justified in going back to bed.

Of course, half an hour after that I was very very late. One glance in the mirror reminded me I also forgot to dry my hair the night before, and while looking like an eighties throwback is not exactly an alien concept to me, I didn't have time to sort it out. I went to school through the mixed blessing of pouring rain - freezing cold and uncomfortable, but allowed me to hide my hair under my hood. I had to walk twice the usual distance as well - all the entrances and exits to Coronation Park were inexplicably locked by the no doubt omniscient Parks department.

All in all, bad day before nine in the morning. In more cheerful news, Emma has an interview at Clare College. I'm rather impressed. Actually, very impressed. She's nervous, but I can't see her not getting in. Sarah has interviews at Manchester and Nottingham this week, and Helena, lucky bint, has offers. Law at King's and Manchester. Heh. She's applied to Merton, and along with all of us, is just waiting for a call to interview.

Unlike most, it's Tuesdays I seem to never have got the hang of. A full day of lessons is never good, and when we begin with Mrs Rice-Oxley and parasympathetic bladder control, the not good is merely emphasises. Talking of her, I just saw the video to Keane's This Is The Last Time and would like to say that Tom Chaplin is the prettiest thing ever. Hee.

From bladder control to stalkers (amazing but true - I have a first-year stalker, who follows me everywhere; I have no idea who she is) to datalogging, unfortunately. I am not good at datalogging, but this is offset by the fact I'm the only one of the seven who actually likes computers. I can even set up a titration without major incident these days, so I set that up, put the pH probe in and started the complicated operation of connecting the latpop to the wireless network. I got it to work eventually, logged on and started the titration. Simple enough, for me at least. Sarah's computer wanted her to install new hardware. Bewcky's was locked. Fidan's didn't like the network. I'ts amazing how temperamental the damn things are. I did a strong acid/strong base, moved on to strong acid/weak base, was quietly pleased and hunting for NaOh when my computer died. Just like that. Spontaneously. It ran out of battery power, apparently, and took all my data with it. I could have cried.

It resurrected some monites later, sans data, and I did one with ammonia while Rola took my ethanoic acid. "Which one is it?" she asked, as I hadn't labelled anything.

The one that smells of vinegar," I said intelligently, and added the flea. The fleas, as they are formally known are just the coolest thing. They're small magnetic widgets that stir your solution for you, sort of like enthusiastic jumping beans. Fun.

But more fun when stuff works, clearly. I eventually gave up and went off to lunch, avoiding the stalker, who is clearly crazy. In the afternoon, I didn't go to lessons. I couldn't exactly face English (was told later I didn't miss much) and sat in the library watching crazy preparation for the visit of some D of E VIPs. They even hoovered the library floor for the first time in literally centuries. Well, I'd be surprised if it's ever been hoovered in three centuries of existence. In the end I went home, because that was that for me today.

I left school at two thirty. Got home at four thirty. It's a seven-mile journey. Surely I can walk faster than three point five miles per hour? I thought I could. Terrible journey, lots of lingering on freezing cold platforms then being packed into stiflingly hot trains, and I walked home from Freshfield thoroughly pissed off. Not far from home, it started to rain. The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and it was raining. I merely nodded to myself, deciding getting wet again would be the finishing touch to today, but when I stopped to get out my keys, I saw the rainbow. A full-arch one and everything, right across the sky.

I was going to finish this entry with a no doubt trite observation about the rainbow representing the good things in my day obscured by the constant rain, especially as I got a parcel too, but I wrote all of the above then lost it in a(nother) computer crash. And just now, when I'd finished re-typing it, I knocked my coffee all over my keyboard. Whoop. I'm going to go and remake that.

But, but but but, I got a package from mettanna! Sidg, you're an absolute darling. I'm all blissed out on Common Rotation now. Post-modern, hee.