Things that are worrying me:
- My feet appear to be getting smaller at a scarily rapid rate, leading me to question whether or not I will still be in proportion by the end of the year
- One of my contacts on Facebook just spelt 'which' as 'witch', as well as writing 'tew' instead of 'too', leading me to reconsider why I have them on there
- I have convinced myself that if I concentrate hard enough, I can succeed in telekinesis, leaving me little time to write essays
- I have just spent the last five minutes looking up Anna Friel's first lesbian kiss on Brookside so my sister can win the pub quiz
- When "aimlessly doodling" whilst on the phone, I appear to have accidentally drawn a swastika...
Despite the above concerns, today has not been bad, as far as days go. I went home for the weekend back to Bradford, most of which has either been knocked down or is in the process of being so, and managed to actually enjoy it, even though it is continually raining/snowing/being subject to some form of chav-orientated harassment. I even got a few free meals, and my mum bought me a new pair of Vans when we went shopping in Leeds seeing as my old ones were starting to resemble old dishcloths. I stopped at Lauren and Kelly's on Saturday night which was hilarious, if not slightly disturbing given the subject choice me and Kel chose - how do gay guys decide who goes where? In the end (ha), we decided they must flip a coin for it and made a mental note to ask Paul when he is next too drunk to remember.
Me and my housemates took a brave step out of the house on Thursday and made a little trip to Blackpool, which was both good and bad at the same time. Good because we went out and had an ace night, got to see the sea, and got to meet Katie's cuter than cute dog. Bad because the club we went to had a revolving dancefloor (what was going through the designer's head when he invented that I would love to know), Megan won the game when she saw the sea first, and when we went for fish and chips the menu said barmcake. That is correct. Barm. Cake. Possibly the most ridiculous thing I have ever read, including Bart Simpson's Guide To Life. I felt a little bit more settled when I went to a café in Leeds market with my mum and the menu said 'teacake', but still. Ridiculous.
Other highlights of reading week include being absolutely thrashed at pool by my friend Tom, who I used to be able to beat with my eyes closed, leading me to think that I may have lost all ability to play and must start going to the pub more often and practice. Today's journey back to Chester was relatively stress-free, and particularly exciting as I got to go on the train thanks to my father's generous donation as opposed to the unnaturally cramped National Express bus. The journey got of to an irritating start when the really annoying woman on the tannoy system at Bradford Interchange kept announcing that the Leeds train was late and was due at ten, but due to be later. If it's due to be later, then it clearly is not due at ten... Apparently, it was 'approximately' 28 minutes late. How an exact number is an approximation I do not know, but oh well. I managed to get to Leeds in time for the Manchester train anyway where I had to sit opposite a woman who kept peering over the top of her copy of 'Dreams: Their Healing Power and Purpose in Your Spiritual Life' to stare at me suspiciously. She didn't look particularly spiritual, she was wearing a luminous orange body warmer and blowing her nose on the end of her sleeve when she thought people weren't looking. I am thankfully back in Chester now and attempting to write 2,000 words on the wonder that is Keats. How someone can write three whole pages on a bird baffles me, never mind how I am meant to write 2,000 words about it. I got really proud and excited when I saw I had made notes in my anthology, but on closer inspection they turned out to be uninspiring doodles and personal notes to listen to The Smiths...