True Love and High Adventure
Image hosted by Photobucket.comTrue Love and High Adventure
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"I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library."

Friday, December 06, 2002
It's freezing cold and there are no students up and about. The Language Centre is plunged in an eerie silence and I'm BORED. I'm also still in a bad mood from last night, when I decided for some reason to go late night shopping in Brighton. At least, I THOUGHT I was going to the shopping centre, but apparently I got lost because I ended up in HELL. After walking round in a daze for a bit being elbowed by thirteen year old girls and grandmothers laden with Harry Potter chocolate, I finally bought some hairbands, two books and a box of Christmas cards. This took over an hour. And they're not even GOOD books - I was bamboozled by a twofortenpounds offer and the panic-edged thought that it's my step-dad's birthday next week. When I got home I couldn't even bear to have any dinner, such was my disgust with consumption of every kind. But tomorrow, I have vowed, it will all be different. I will calmly leave the house at an early hour and frequent my favourite charity bookshops, safe in the knowledge that I am buying gifts because someone will like them, not because WHSmith has put them at eye level. Then I will visit the Steiner School Christmas bazaar where there will be home-made candles and wooden toys and such.


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Thursday, December 05, 2002
Arrrgghh... I've started to get GEEK HEADACHES. You know, the ones you get from staring at a screen for too long, and when you shut your eyes you see little @ signs and html tags and Windows icons dancing behind them. God only knows what it must be like for people who actually do that stuff for a LIVING. Actually the headaches could also mean that I need new glasses. But given the current financial situation I'll be stumbling around completely blind before a new pair seems a vital purchase.

My cunning plan to avoid buying Christmas presents is to make festive gingerbread or similar, although I don't know whether my friends will still agree with the statement that it's the thought that counts when they're vomiting behind the Christmas tree. Not that my cooking is BAD, it's just that I don't have a very good record with baking. There was the memorable marmalade cake which bounced, for instance. But that was in another country, and besides, the wench is dead (not really of course - she didn't actually EAT it, after all.)

I'm now just marking time at work until the 18th December when I can lock the doors for 2 weeks and go and soak up poetry and dance with the cool set in London. Yay!



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