My weekend
Oct. 30th, 2005 11:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenalcohol units 10 (wtf?), calories 6000+ (ohgod), glasses of champagne 3, white wine consumption hideous (reaction to four weeks of £2.99 Sainsbury's plonk?), hours spent on trains 9, blistering invective aimed at Hal Varian, infinite.
Have spent most of weekend on trains rereading Bridget Jones, so style of writing is bleeding into journal by osmosis. Am hoping it will wear off soon; unlike time read I Capture The Castle in two days and wrote in style of Cassandra Mortmain for a month. (Note to self: never read Samuel Pepys as will be defriended en masse and die alone and be eaten by Alsatians.)
Back in college after two days at home and is decidedly weird. The journey back was horrendous, as train crept across landscape in manner of diseased snail and made several random stops in fields for such lengths of time was driven to wonder if driver had gone for pee and fallen down well. Was obviously laden down with all the food in the universe by a tearful mother; have various types of chili chicken, kheer (no, not noxious dish colloquially known as rice pudding; as well as rice and milk, has cream and cardamon and all manner of nice things) and birthday cake. My mother's birthday was wonderful. She cried a bit after I arrived, cried a bit into her cake, but said it was the good kind of crying, cheered up over presents and champagne, and cried even more when I left Lime Street this afternoon.
She is convinced she will get fat if she keeps all the lovely food left over, so has put it in my suitcase as is presumably of no importance whether I get fat or not. I am grateful; her cooking remains spectacular and was surreal to eat it off plastic plates in college. College itself has been serenly calm in my absence (only excitement is postcard from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jessikast! thank you so much!) aside from Diwali bop at St Cross. I was missed, apparently. Love that people missed me. Perhaps I belong here now.
People who gave me music - thank you so much, I really appreciate it, and I couldn't download any of it! Stupid arsing reverse-reverse-psychology-ed laptop Loki decided to connect to the internet for no more than thirty seconds at a time, which is okay for LJ and email but not for downloads. I then decided to just rip all the CDs I didn't bring. CD drive made bizarre quadruple clicking noises and ignored all CDs in drive. Looked up manufacturer website, which was v. nice and v.helpful and said they could have it fixed in four to six weeks. Only four weeks left of Michaelmas (eeeek), so will dispatch laptop off in December.
At least, in theory; am back in college and CD drive has unaccountably fixed self. Am baffled.
Was particularly disappointed that didn't get to rip Counting Crows CDs, as was looking forward to sharing them with Wisconsin Sam, who was delighted to discover a fellow fan. Surprised, as being Counting Crows (and Indigo Girls and Goo Goo Dolls and other stuff of same ilk) fan seems to suddenly engender coolness; was previously of opinion it conferred status of Person With Painfully Unhip Music Collection. Suspect may, possibly, have thing about Wisconsin Sam; unfortunately he is all pretty and cool and um, American, and remain Painfully Unhip self with crazy hair doomed to die alone and be eaten by Alsatians.
(Um, not hair dying alone; would still be attached to said hair and so would be collective death and eating by Alsatians.)
I don't mean that exactly, but there are shocking amounts of couples about. (Ah, I appear to be sounding like myself again. Good stuff.) Claire's boyfriend is coming to vist, and Colleen's visiting with her boyfriend, and Wolfgang's girlfriend is here from Germany, there is the usual PPE gay incest going on, and Sky asked Pat out (she said no, in favour of guy she met at Mood called Adam), andjacinthsong is embarking on new romantic adventure, and am feeling oddly Singletonesque. DOOM, I tell you. Maybe I'm just too essentially boring and/or unromantic, or more likely there are a limited supply of people crazy enough to date me, and I've just exhausted them.
(If am going to be so needlessly maudlin, should perhaps not lapse back into own writing style.)
Bedtime, as must be up at eight to wash hair and then get tickets at nine from lodge for Balliol bonfire party and Hallowe'en bop. Should also do actual work and read Mill. Siiigh.
Have spent most of weekend on trains rereading Bridget Jones, so style of writing is bleeding into journal by osmosis. Am hoping it will wear off soon; unlike time read I Capture The Castle in two days and wrote in style of Cassandra Mortmain for a month. (Note to self: never read Samuel Pepys as will be defriended en masse and die alone and be eaten by Alsatians.)
Back in college after two days at home and is decidedly weird. The journey back was horrendous, as train crept across landscape in manner of diseased snail and made several random stops in fields for such lengths of time was driven to wonder if driver had gone for pee and fallen down well. Was obviously laden down with all the food in the universe by a tearful mother; have various types of chili chicken, kheer (no, not noxious dish colloquially known as rice pudding; as well as rice and milk, has cream and cardamon and all manner of nice things) and birthday cake. My mother's birthday was wonderful. She cried a bit after I arrived, cried a bit into her cake, but said it was the good kind of crying, cheered up over presents and champagne, and cried even more when I left Lime Street this afternoon.
She is convinced she will get fat if she keeps all the lovely food left over, so has put it in my suitcase as is presumably of no importance whether I get fat or not. I am grateful; her cooking remains spectacular and was surreal to eat it off plastic plates in college. College itself has been serenly calm in my absence (only excitement is postcard from
jessikast! thank you so much!) aside from Diwali bop at St Cross. I was missed, apparently. Love that people missed me. Perhaps I belong here now.People who gave me music - thank you so much, I really appreciate it, and I couldn't download any of it! Stupid arsing reverse-reverse-psychology-ed laptop Loki decided to connect to the internet for no more than thirty seconds at a time, which is okay for LJ and email but not for downloads. I then decided to just rip all the CDs I didn't bring. CD drive made bizarre quadruple clicking noises and ignored all CDs in drive. Looked up manufacturer website, which was v. nice and v.helpful and said they could have it fixed in four to six weeks. Only four weeks left of Michaelmas (eeeek), so will dispatch laptop off in December.
At least, in theory; am back in college and CD drive has unaccountably fixed self. Am baffled.
Was particularly disappointed that didn't get to rip Counting Crows CDs, as was looking forward to sharing them with Wisconsin Sam, who was delighted to discover a fellow fan. Surprised, as being Counting Crows (and Indigo Girls and Goo Goo Dolls and other stuff of same ilk) fan seems to suddenly engender coolness; was previously of opinion it conferred status of Person With Painfully Unhip Music Collection. Suspect may, possibly, have thing about Wisconsin Sam; unfortunately he is all pretty and cool and um, American, and remain Painfully Unhip self with crazy hair doomed to die alone and be eaten by Alsatians.
(Um, not hair dying alone; would still be attached to said hair and so would be collective death and eating by Alsatians.)
I don't mean that exactly, but there are shocking amounts of couples about. (Ah, I appear to be sounding like myself again. Good stuff.) Claire's boyfriend is coming to vist, and Colleen's visiting with her boyfriend, and Wolfgang's girlfriend is here from Germany, there is the usual PPE gay incest going on, and Sky asked Pat out (she said no, in favour of guy she met at Mood called Adam), and
jacinthsong is embarking on new romantic adventure, and am feeling oddly Singletonesque. DOOM, I tell you. Maybe I'm just too essentially boring and/or unromantic, or more likely there are a limited supply of people crazy enough to date me, and I've just exhausted them.(If am going to be so needlessly maudlin, should perhaps not lapse back into own writing style.)
Bedtime, as must be up at eight to wash hair and then get tickets at nine from lodge for Balliol bonfire party and Hallowe'en bop. Should also do actual work and read Mill. Siiigh.
