Numero 2

Alright then, it’s time for another blog. Today’s been quite a good day, since yesterday the weather’s gotten a lot better and unsurprisingly, my cold’s gone (well, almost... still a few sniffles) which is ironic since two days ago, when we did the ‘architecture walk’ around town- in order to analyse the city- the weather was as dull as dishwater. This was especially irritating since I was given the task of looking at ‘light and shadow,’ which is practically impossible without bloody illumination of any sort.

So let’s see... how did I start the day? Well, in a word: drunk. Yes- dizzy, nauseous, wobbly drunkenness- it was a sore reminder of the night before. However, I wasn’t in as bad a state as that Tom fellow who I mentioned in my last blog. Unsurprisingly, he ended up on the ‘jagermeister’, which made a prompt reappearance after a few minutes... all over his flatmates’ kitchen floor. After which, he collapsed into a hideous mess and was laid in the recovery position by his friends who feared he was dead.

Once I’d seen all this unfold, I slowly crept out of their flat and back to my own- glad to have a clean, cool bed awaiting me. Even still, I trundled to my lecture feeling wretched where I met James and Karl- two older students on my course; they took pity on my frail state and laughed jovially when they heard about the previous night’s exploits.

Both of the poor buggers have to drive for a ridiculous amount of time before even getting to the university- Karl, I believe, travels for up to three hours just to get to lectures. This fact makes me chuckle sadistically, especially when the lectures turn out to last five minutes and consist of one of the more enterprising lecturers plugging their new book and telling you to go on the university website- rather than, as the timetable would have us think, that it was a day-long lecture with vital forms and opt-out death warrants being handed out.

So, all in all, I think the pity we have for each other is mutual.

I went to the rowing club induction thing earlier this evening. I didn’t really fancy going to the union with them afterwards though, so I made sure that I could disappear quickly and didn’t buy one of the cheap white shirts that they implored everyone to go out in. Inevitably, because of the shirts, we all had to write amusing comments on each other. James and I bet that it wouldn’t be long before the first cock would be drawn on the back.

I personally can’t understand why people want to write on each other, when would you ever wear that shirt again? Surely it’s ruined, and what’s the best someone could write on it? “THIS MAN’S A TOSSER!!!!” I guess the only plus side is that you get to find out who the biggest moron is. So, anyway, I didn’t buy a sodding shirt, and I was damn well pleased... £2 more for me and so much less aggravation, also minus the awkwardness of actually writing of others. “C-can I j-just write something on you? Where’s the pen? Oh shit, I’ve creased the material... [Now it says “I’M FAT” instead of “I’M FIT”]”... Brilliant. Instant enemies!

Fortunately, the club itself seemed excellent, and the people helping out were pretty awesome so I did pay the subscription (£25 a semester). Hopefully I’m going to make the best of it... we’ll see though, eh?

Looking forward to tomorrow, I start at 1 for once, which will be nice.