no-one getting stuck in window through own ineptitude

It finally dawned on me that I’m not the only one sitting at home and moping, and that there is a very obvious cure for the condition. Therefore, I had a lovely late lunch with shipperkitten today, spent chatting, catching up and comparing notes on being the last to leave. She’s going to Imperial at the start of October, living right in the centre of London, and I’m a wee bit jealous. Not much, though; she’s reading aeronautical engineering and judging from the textbooks on the subject, which rejoice in names like Advanced Applied Mathematics For Engineering and Complex Numbers Made Simple, it is not for the faint of heart. They’re the sort of hefty tomes that occasionally appear in coroners’ reports.

Before Blackwell’s, we went to get buffet pizza for lunch, but they’d run out of plates. Amusingly, this resulted in our eating it out of ice-cream bowls and having a whole day of gossip. Emily has promised to come and visit me in Oxford, and I plan to return the favour with interest. I’m still amazed that I can make a promise like this and for the first time in my life, make it as a free agent; I’m an adult. It doesn’t feel like it half the time – in Pritchard’s, we get old ladies coming in about a book they ordered and that they were served by “the young girl” – but if I walked into the sea today, the papers would talk about the death of a woman.

(I actually skipped over the entire section of the Freshers’ Guide entitled “Balliol Women” before realising hey, that’s me. But as I’m getting used to it, I think I like it.)

So I am, once again, more excited than afraid. I’m happy and heartened that all my friends seem to be settling in with disgusting ease. Colleen is settled with five house-mates and a shopping trolley, Clare has made lots of (male) friends and Hannah’s wondering why she was so worried. Talking of Hannah, Emily and I decided to attempt a 3G call to her today. It didn’t work, because her phone was on silent, but we left two video messages of ourselves giggling in the centre of Liverpool.

I also got to hear lots about Emily’s new Guide dog puppy, Quinn. She’s got him for a year, and he sounds adorable.

So that was my day, and I’m feeling quite a lot better. I’m still having writing issues, which have contributed to the blue mood, but they’re less… all-encompassing than they were. I don’t believe in muses, but I do believe in phases when everything you write just sucks. I’m having one, and it’s particularly galling because the story I am attempting to tell is a good idea, one I’m pleased with, but the execution, usually the easy part, is stifling rather than illuminating it.

Still. Bedtime, perhaps. I haven’t slept properly in days. I’d like to make just one more song request – does anyone have Mrs Robinson by the Beatles Simon and Garfunkel, oops? It’s one song I’m missing at the moment. I’m going to post another playlist of my own music tomorrow, if that would be of interest to anyone.

Also, new icon! Made sans Photoshop, but I quite like it.