Manchester; and Life On Mars, episodes seven and eight

Oh, so tired. I had a lovely day yesterday, though; I did, as planned, go off to Manchester at some ridiculous hour of the morning, and was met by purplerainbow at Oxford Road in the midst of swiftly falling snow. It didn't stick, of course. But it's good to know Manchester hasn't lost its talent for terrible, terrible weather. Clare said later that it's not really worth saying it's raining, hailing, sleeting or whatever - easier just to say it's precipitating again. I like that. Manchester precipitates. We went for a coffee and stared out at the snow, and really, that set the tone, because we didn't do much beyond chat, eat and wander around in the preciptation. They took me through Canal Street, which looks pretty even in the slushy morning, with the big flags everywhere to be seen - I like how one flag waves delicately over the street sign, for perfect photo opportunities - and the sense of, I don't know, culture. Actually, the whole trip was an exercise in culture for me; I was telling Pedar later that I have never been to, or visited, a real university. Oxford is different. It's ancient and weighed-down and different, and most of all, it's collegiate. A big university - and Manchester is very, very big - is an alien experience, and I rather think Balliol insulates me from the fact my university has eleven thousand undergraduates. Which is certainly not to say I don't love Oxford, because I do; I like that people know me, know my friends, are my friends, understand an underlying culture that is complex to such an extent that we have a specific vernacular and vaguely unusual way of life.

Oh, my, I am being boring again. What I am trying to say is that my day yesterday was interesting in more ways than one. I had a peek at Clare's flat, or at least her room, which is very much like I'd expect - that is, quirky, full of treasures and unwashed plates - and she gave me a birthday present! I am now the proud owner of three cast metal Daleks. They are adorable. One is black, one is grey and one is red, and they are sitting on the table as tiny squat laptop guardians. I don't know what I'm going to call them. Suggestions on a postcard comment please.

Following this, there was more wandering, a few segues into sights - we went to the Manchester Museum so Clare could see a penguin exhibit, and although I did in fact go to the Oxford Natural History Museum (and Pitt-Rivers, actually) during eighth week, it's been a long time since I had the time to do something like that. It was actually quite a lot of fun, peering at Egyptian artefacts and stuffed polar bears.

Hannah lives in Fallowfield, near Rusholme - Rusholme, I should add, is where the NRI population of the Northwest hang out (it serves the same purpose as Southall does in London), and as I was dragged there a lot as a small child, I'm not fond of the place. NRI culture seems to be a rule unto itself half the time. More on that another time. Anyway, Hannah's living arrangements are very different, but unexpectedly similar to the Jowett Walk flat I've got for next year, and her room, too, is a lot like her. I am also the proud owner of the Doctor Who Annual 2006! My birthday presents have a theme. It is joy, and I did enjoy myself thoroughly. The journey back was not so enjoyable, because first I had to hang about for half an hour in Salford, and then another twenty minutes in Southport, and it was freezing, freezing cold and my iPod had had some sort of spasm which mean it didn't want to play music at me, so all I could really do with myself was scribble fic notes in a reporter's notebook, which I usually try not to do because I find it makes people nervous, or read my Annual. So I read my Annual. It was terribly fun.

I got home, eventually, to be met by two pieces of good news. Firstly, Claire Curtis-Thomas (Labour MP for Crosby and Formby) has asked for a copy of my CV and for me to list my political interests. I'm hoping this is a good sign, because I would love this internship and I'd get so much out of it; I don't actually care if it was just licking House of Commons envelopes, because I want to see what this thing I'm working for is actually like.

Secondly, I got a very tongue-in-cheek email from the letters editor of Time. About a week ago, Pedar and I co-authored a letter about the political situation in India, which they are planning to publish. However, it's their policy to only attach one name to each letter. Therefore, they have looked through their records and found, as both Pedar and I have been published separately before, he gets his name on it as being the least recent! Pedar thinks this is hilarious. I'm not entirely sure why.

Sigh. I'm rambling as usual. I actually wanted to review ( the last two episodes of Life On Mars )