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Nov. 23rd, 2005 08:15 pmThe world is looking slightly less grey, and as always, I have my friends to thank. You lovely, adorable, wonderful lot, and the meatspace ones, whom I have known all of seven weeks now and I can't imagine how I'd have survived this far without them. I went to bed last night and didn't sleep and tossed and turned and got steadily lower and lower, and when I woke up it was because Claire was ringing me and it was, of course, gone eleven and the fifth consecutive day I hadn't gone to lectures. She disappeared quickly - I have very little memory of what she said and what I said to her - and I tried to get out of bed and instantly regretted it.
WOE. For I am ill, and staring at the ceiling does not get work done, but thankfully it's Wednesday. I staggered into the hall and was solemnly informed by Pat and Claire to have something to eat and the chicken was good. It was good. And then I staggered to Somerville just in time for my Politics tute. Carolyn told me to sit quietly and listen and then go home to bed with Lemsip. I started feeling well-disposed towards the world again. It's wonderful, how nice people can be; and in an ironic twist, that was probably my best tute ever. I made one whole intelligent point in it. And then I went home, and slept a while, and put together a couple of packages and ran down to St Aldate's before the post office closed.
While I'm at it, happy birthday,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clareyperson! Your birthday present was dispatched without problems and should be there tomorrow or Friday. It's recorded delivery, which I apologise for, but I need a stick to beat the Royal Mail with if they lose it; it's not so much valuable as irreplaceable, and if it disappears I will be furious. And, purplerainbow - your birthday present went into the post today as well, as I realised it could be squished. Enjoy, both of you.
What else? Ah, I went to see a play. The Cuppers winner, which was not, thank god, La Sainte Courtesan, but a half-hour, self-penned snippet by someone from Keble. It was less than half an hour in the end, and I don't pretend to know much about drama, but it was excellent. The acting wasn't stellar, but the script was: really cutting and with a twist. Much like a gin and tonic. I digress. I went back to college and found myself embroiled in a new set of complications. I believe Liya is having a worse time than I am at the moment; her stress levels are reaching quite epic proportions, but she won't, she refuses, to go to see someone about it. So Claire and I have engineered a meeting between Liya and Doug. Doug is really the Reverend Doctor Douglas Dupree, but he prefers "Doug"; he has a soothing Tennessee drawl and a calming effect on just about everyone. He is sending her a message to the effect that she go and see him, if not for her sake than for his "middle-aged old man" sake.
Like I said, the nicest man in the world. When we were all perched on his many couches, he asked if we were living in Cowley or in Jowett. "We're first-years," I told him.
"I knew that!" he said. "It just feels like you've been here forever."
Well, it's good to be accepted. I'm feeling better, a bit. Not physically, as I am, as promised, curled up in bed with lemon tea (it's the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted, but again I digress) but you know what I mean. Better. A few quotes:
(drunken poker night, just after Claire re-dyed her hair)
SKY: Claire! Of the soviet red hair!
LIYA: Do all Russian people have red hair?
ME: ...wstfgl?
LIYA: I saw Russians at the airport one time! They had red hair!
ALL: ...
(in the Covered Market)
CLAIRE: Can we not sit there, I don't want to eat in front of the beheaded animals.
(overheard walking across the front quad)
GIRL 1: What was he wearing?
GIRL 2: Nothing but a loincloth and a green beard painted on!
(tonight)
ME: Ben's Cookies is in the Guide!
CLAIRE: What does it say?
ME: "Cooooooookiiiiiiees."
Ah, enough. Just rememebered I need to go and print stuff out, and despite being in the college, the computer room is about seven minutes' walk away. I do so love my attic, but roll on Christmas.
WOE. For I am ill, and staring at the ceiling does not get work done, but thankfully it's Wednesday. I staggered into the hall and was solemnly informed by Pat and Claire to have something to eat and the chicken was good. It was good. And then I staggered to Somerville just in time for my Politics tute. Carolyn told me to sit quietly and listen and then go home to bed with Lemsip. I started feeling well-disposed towards the world again. It's wonderful, how nice people can be; and in an ironic twist, that was probably my best tute ever. I made one whole intelligent point in it. And then I went home, and slept a while, and put together a couple of packages and ran down to St Aldate's before the post office closed.
While I'm at it, happy birthday,
clareyperson! Your birthday present was dispatched without problems and should be there tomorrow or Friday. It's recorded delivery, which I apologise for, but I need a stick to beat the Royal Mail with if they lose it; it's not so much valuable as irreplaceable, and if it disappears I will be furious. And, purplerainbow - your birthday present went into the post today as well, as I realised it could be squished. Enjoy, both of you.What else? Ah, I went to see a play. The Cuppers winner, which was not, thank god, La Sainte Courtesan, but a half-hour, self-penned snippet by someone from Keble. It was less than half an hour in the end, and I don't pretend to know much about drama, but it was excellent. The acting wasn't stellar, but the script was: really cutting and with a twist. Much like a gin and tonic. I digress. I went back to college and found myself embroiled in a new set of complications. I believe Liya is having a worse time than I am at the moment; her stress levels are reaching quite epic proportions, but she won't, she refuses, to go to see someone about it. So Claire and I have engineered a meeting between Liya and Doug. Doug is really the Reverend Doctor Douglas Dupree, but he prefers "Doug"; he has a soothing Tennessee drawl and a calming effect on just about everyone. He is sending her a message to the effect that she go and see him, if not for her sake than for his "middle-aged old man" sake.
Like I said, the nicest man in the world. When we were all perched on his many couches, he asked if we were living in Cowley or in Jowett. "We're first-years," I told him.
"I knew that!" he said. "It just feels like you've been here forever."
Well, it's good to be accepted. I'm feeling better, a bit. Not physically, as I am, as promised, curled up in bed with lemon tea (it's the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted, but again I digress) but you know what I mean. Better. A few quotes:
(drunken poker night, just after Claire re-dyed her hair)
SKY: Claire! Of the soviet red hair!
LIYA: Do all Russian people have red hair?
ME: ...wstfgl?
LIYA: I saw Russians at the airport one time! They had red hair!
ALL: ...
(in the Covered Market)
CLAIRE: Can we not sit there, I don't want to eat in front of the beheaded animals.
(overheard walking across the front quad)
GIRL 1: What was he wearing?
GIRL 2: Nothing but a loincloth and a green beard painted on!
(tonight)
ME: Ben's Cookies is in the Guide!
CLAIRE: What does it say?
ME: "Cooooooookiiiiiiees."
Ah, enough. Just rememebered I need to go and print stuff out, and despite being in the college, the computer room is about seven minutes' walk away. I do so love my attic, but roll on Christmas.
