#32 Houses and Housewives

I've had to take a break from writing The Most Boring Essay Of The Year So Far, so here's some more grammatically-incorrect gubbins to pass the time before tea...

I'm back in Dartford at the moment, having popped up to the City of Seven Hills for the weekend to hand in some essays and drop off half my luggage. This has meant spending the best part of 2 days of the last week travelling, so my knowledge of service stations on the M1 is coming along leaps and bounds.

Last week was Frazer's birthday, so we went "up Lahndahn" for the night. It was nice to get to see (and actually talk to) people from back here again, and getting charged the best part of £4 for a pint brought back memories. Although to be fair, 'The Slug And Lettuce' is a pretty nice establishment. Walkabout isn't too bad either, so I think we should try and get to the Sheffield branch sometime... although Australia Day is probably not the best night to choose...

Sunday was a day of coaches, trains and buses as I left for Ranmoor at - eek - half past nine in the morning. Still, it meant arriving in time for a delightful Sunday roast and, of course, the pub quiz. 19/28 before you ask.

For some reason, the African bloke sitting in front of me on the National Express could only talk to people on his mobile phone through the speaker-phone button. This meant myself and the other passengers were not only treated to him shouting a completely random language, but also his children and wife on the other end of the phone. Understandably, there wasn't a word in their language for "National Express", "Sheffield" or "Travel Interchange", but the fact they have no phrase for "Half-past Three" confused me. Do they not have time in their country?!?

What with me being an international traveller, always on the go, people to see (etc. etc.), I haven't been able to go out looking for accommodation for next year. Luckily, my two favourite future-housemates did a sterling job of going out searching (and keeping me informed by phone) on Tuesday. With any luck, I'm off to see a house on Monday and should be handing the landlord a cheque the very same day. I do have a slight worry that they've deliberately chosen a house with a small bedroom, just to see if I can actually get through the door, though!

Yes, Tuesday was the day of my return journey. I've now recognised that the reason my suitcase was so heavy on Sunday (despite the fact it was only half-full) is that the suitcase itself is so blooming heavy! I thought carrying it home (empty) would be a doddle, but I nearly pulled my arm off... I shall have to re-think my packing strategy in future.


Slightly random sighting of the day:
A one-legged pigeon at Sheffield Interchange


And so to this week, which I've spent slaving away over this poxy essay on a set of books I don't actually like or understand, but that has to be in for Monday and accounts for a third of my grade. Such is life.

I have, of course, made time for the new series of Desperate Housewives, however: despite the whole "will-Zach-shoot-Mike" cliff-hanger being a bit of a damp squib, the last scene was certainly intriguing... the second episode is on tape should I get too excited to wait until Second Chance Sunday or next Wednesday.

Equally addictive, and slightly worrying, is Big Brother. Being a Preston fan (but also a huge fan of Big Brother - the being - itself), last night's punishment was excruciating and delightful at the same time. But I really feel angry that the whole race issue has come up. If I had my way, I'd vote out Traci, Dennis and Pete. The fact that two of those three are black has nothing to do with it per se - it's the fact that they're so anti-social that gets my goat. More to the point, the whites in the house are now going to be scared to vote for them for fear of appearing racist. It's political correctness gone too far the other way. Rant over.

Right, that'll do.