In which I ramble.

More assorted points of interest:

-Two cards for me in the post this morning - a New Year card from the_acrobat, who is one of my favourite people in the world, and a birthday card from tau_sigma, who is joy and love. Thank you so much, both of you.

-Moving on, I had three hours of lectures today. I know this is the bit where the science students roll their eyes, but, come on, seriously. I'm an arts student, and have the essay/problem sheet/living in the library workload to go with it. I could do without three solid hours of lectures. The first was Theorising Democracy, which seems better than I thought, as it's more like philosophy than poltics and that is always joy.

The second one was Maths For Stupid People Elementary Mathematical Methods, which usually gives me pain. But less so this term, because of the silly amount of maths I did over Christmas. And after several minutes, I got lost. Totally, stupidly, beyond-redemption lost, to the point where I was beginning to wonder if I'd even read the right textbook, let alone the right pages in it, and after a while I mustered up what is left of my courage and asked where I was going wrong in assuming I had to multiply 12 by 3/4 in the second line.

"You do have to do that," I got told, in that proper you-are-a-stupid-person voice.

"Then where does the 8 come from?" I asked.

"It's three quarters of twelve!"

Yep, that's me told. "Um," I said, in a tiny, Oliver Twist sort of voice. "I, um, I sort of, um, I'm crap at this, um, but I don't think it is."

(I was so doubtful of myself that it took checking on the calculator before I was really sure. But I was right. For possibly the only time ever, so I think it warranted recording.)

The last of the three lectures was General Philosophy, with all the associated joy. I was just wandering out when Sky caught up with me. "Those two," he said, pointing at the lecturers, "should go and get civil-partnershipped or something. I keep expecting them to passionately embrace."

Happily, I relayed this to jacinthsong, who had just appeared. Sky is not a slasher, as far as I know. It just shows how obvious it is. There was joyous squee.

Later on, I had a tute with Sky, and with my Philosophy tutor Jordan, who is terribly shy and sweet. Couldn't be more unlike Bob, which gives me a little faith. Sky's essay was rather good, as he was reading this time, and the discussion rolled around into science and determinism and psychological action and how to think about Hume, and it was all very, very interesting. I was telling this to Claire later, standing in her doorway when Liya skidded up. "Look at this!" she shrieked.

"What?" I asked. "Oh, fuck..."

It was a Bruise. Initial capital because, well, it had personality. If Margaret Thatcher died and came back as a purplish patch on someone's arm, that's what it would look like. "Have you taken up being a junkie?" Claire asked.

"What's a junkie?"

"Oh, never mind."

And then Sky skidded up himself. "I have decided," he said solemnly, "I am very much attracted to my Philosophy lecturer."

"The incredibly gay ones?" (Claire learns really, really fast.) "Which one?"

"The one that's like that Doctor Who man."

"David Tennant?" I wanted to know.

"Yeah, 'cause he talks, and then suddenly he gets really charismatic, and um, yeah. I have to go to the Disney Store." At which point he did, to the bafflement of all, but it looks like Sky has embraced his bisexuality, finally. At any rate, he's no longer afraid of making it common knowledge. I think I owe him a coming-out present.

Claire suddenly realised she had sat down to do some work when first Liya, Sky and I appeared and wanted to talk about rubbish, in her words. When I went to Sainbury's, she asked me to pick up some salt for her ear (not that she randomly salts her ear; she's got a new bar in cartilage and needs salt solution) and a bottle of red wine. Which I did, with pleasure, but I got IDed at the till. I guess that's fair enough, because they ID everyone who looks under twenty-one, but when I handed over my driving license, the guy looked at me. "I can't sell you this." When I asked why not, he said, "It's your birthday tomorrow, not today." He looked very pleased with himself.

"Yes," I said patiently. "It is my birthday tomorrow. But I'll be nineteen."

There was a long, long pause. "Oh," he said.

He sold me the booze. I went back to college feeling oddly smug, delivered the wine and the salt (apparently you cannot buy less than a kilogram of salt from Sainbury's at a time) and went to dinner. Where I was promptly threatened with something pushing against the small of my back. "Raise your hands and turn around slowly."

I did. To be met by Pat, wielding, wait for it... a banana.

"You've never seen Doctor Who, have you?"

"No, never. Why?"

It's been that sort of day.