Week off.
Managed to see a load of people back in St. A. Good Friday, the Cross Keys. Paul had a set of crab claws that he found on the beach. Like, massive crab claws. They smelled really bad however. The Cross Keys ran out of beer. Dude. So we strolled down to the Lower Red Lion which is actually nicer, much nicer. Ale. Postcards of The Maltings. Hats, sticks. Sleeve Hancock cut off his long flowing ginger hair and sold it. Lady Envelopes. Image Maker. That was lovely, I got to see everybody that I have been pining for. Well, quite a lot of them.
Matt the Cripple and George are coming to stay tomorrow. Deary deary. Hide the breakables.
South World was also lovely. Small seaside town in Suffolk. I forgot about the dray and it ran me down in the street. Hundreds of relatives. Hundreds of them, all flowing about like brownian motion. My aunt told me that my hair looked like I had recently had chemotherapy. I told her that the chemo look was in this season. Another aunt told me that I was disgusting and sick for making such a joke. Alas.
Nice to go hang out in a different seaside town. Hot Cross Buns.
New housemate is cool. He has a bookshelf that has all my books on now and a barometer and he is trying to get us the internet. This may be a bad thing, this latter point.
Academic Journals are so hard to track down. I'm supposed to find an essay by someone called Isabelle Raucq-Hoorickx. Like that's a real word.
Anyway, more soon. Blatantly.
Matt the Cripple and George are coming to stay tomorrow. Deary deary. Hide the breakables.
South World was also lovely. Small seaside town in Suffolk. I forgot about the dray and it ran me down in the street. Hundreds of relatives. Hundreds of them, all flowing about like brownian motion. My aunt told me that my hair looked like I had recently had chemotherapy. I told her that the chemo look was in this season. Another aunt told me that I was disgusting and sick for making such a joke. Alas.
Nice to go hang out in a different seaside town. Hot Cross Buns.
New housemate is cool. He has a bookshelf that has all my books on now and a barometer and he is trying to get us the internet. This may be a bad thing, this latter point.
Academic Journals are so hard to track down. I'm supposed to find an essay by someone called Isabelle Raucq-Hoorickx. Like that's a real word.
Anyway, more soon. Blatantly.
posted by Rufus Moonshine at 7:14 AM
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