GEMMA: So you’re eating… sausages, potato, olives, pasta, tomato sauce and Caesar salad dressing.
GEMMA: In the same bowl. That’s just…
ME: This is why I eat in my room. I’m afraid of you judging me ;_;
On Sunday night I went out to the Shackleton pub quiz. Our team, the… unusally named “Wank Bullett [sic] II” (this being the sequel to Wank Bullett, which won last week) came second with 35/50 points. And we were terrible. The competition was evidently pathetic, possibly because the prize was a paltry £100, and the second prize an even more disappointing few bottles of beer. Which my teammates chugged with relish.
Weather has taken a turn for the miserable. Despite this, and despite actually having the basic necessities for survival (bacon and pasta) at home, I cycled up to Sainsbury’s for what surprisingly turned out to be my most expensive shop yet. There was no individual item over a couple of quid, just lots of small fun things which added up. For some reason a tiny plastic packet of Basics olives in air is 99p where a larger glass jar of own brand olives in brine is 80. Ours not to reason why. *nom* I also picked up a surprisingly cheap, surprisingly heavy bike pump from Halfords for Siz.
On the way back crossing the bridge from the Bristol Road, a girl talking on her mobile phone said “eek! I’m surrounded by cyclists!” as I and another bike going the other way bracketed her, which gave me a grin that didn’t fade til I got home and found I had lost my stylus to holes in my pockets. These are the most aggravating places for holes to be, though another pair of trousers has a massive gash in the leg. The pockets may be repaired, the gash I think is beyond it… I may just need to buy some more clothes.
On the topic of inadequate cloth constructs, the pannier I took has nothing to secure it to the bike beyond the worn plastic hooks and gravity (which works okay when full of oats but falls off a lot while empty). I will either need to ask Greg for how best to tie it to things, or get another pannier. (It also has holes in the bottom and is generally past its best. Lot of it about.)
Even further along this topic, my emerald-green jumper has one-upped both trousers and pannier in flaws by completely disappearing. Since my room is barely large enough to swing one of the constantly scurrying rats in and I have searched it thoroughly, I think I may have left it in Bristol.
The blasted washing machine ate my £2.20 and then didn’t work. The maintenance man who someone else had called due to three other machines (out of the six) also misbehaving, though he unscrewed it, did not then give me a free load as he did for the small attractive female student with the lilting accent who had the exact same problem. Come see the corruption inherent in the system.
So laundry cost me my last two detergent portions, an hour, £4.40, and worst of all the sheer frustration of time and treasure lost. Ah well. Priya gave me a COOKIE and is lovely and wonderful and pedantic about calling cookies cookies rather than biscuits. My oats, butter and sugar are renewed; flapjack for all to follow shortly.
My flatmates have a terrible, terrible obsession with this song. Not just the kind where they play it and sing along regularly and loudly (though they do that… lots), the kind where Becky described the length of the walk to the Guild as “three repetitions of it on my ipod.” I… next time they’re all singing along I’ll try to video it, because it’s deeply hilarious to see.
£10 DOW2 (it was half price on steam, but I am still regretting it)