scotland is not a country; you are an englishman with a dress

Met Lex, my likely future housemate with Siz and Greg on Thursday night, and he seemed wonderful. Unfortunately, he then said that he’d give a certain yes or no response by “the end of March” (at the latest; possibly sooner). That’s more than fifty days away. That’s five tens. And that’s terrible. I had the impression, however misplaced, that if he liked it we’d be sorted and start signing things then and there, and feel more than a little messed around.
It’s still a very good chance, and I do absolutely want to live with Siz and Greg, but it’s been a very good chance for ages and I just want to bloody sign something and get it over with.

My other options are, basically, the private Victoria Halls, which would be a little costlier than the extremely reasonable house (even with bills included) and is, most annoyingly, only 42 weeks a year, but apparently nice to stay in and considerably closer to campus than even the proper halls (whose application deadline was a few days ago, but I deferred on the impression that Greghaus was now pretty much a Sure Thing.) I could try and get into Jon/Jony’s group, but I don’t think that will work out – they’re signing a contract about, er, now.

My latest batch of leek and potato soup is so delicious and sustaining that I thought about writing the recipe I’ve come to use, but I realise my measures are based so much on intuition (and resources) that the ingredients list would start with “some leeks, dollop of butter, slightly too much pepper” and just get vaguer from there. Also, I need to find a good way to buy loads of sauerkraut, which as well as being one of my favourite vegetable-derived things is quite absurdly healthy.

Inspired by Rose, I have repositioned my bed, to what seems to be a much more logical position for warmth and space (drawbacks to follow as discovered, of course). However, in the process of moving it, I found that the corner of my room is damp and has gone mouldy. Fantastic. Jess told me that she’s had the same problem (they’re in the same position on opposite sides of the block, with exposed corners which are presumably not quite as watertight as they should be) and we are together resolved to hassle Maintenance until they sort this.

Next week is reading week, and as well as pulling together a lot of essay prep I will be visited by the wonderful TOM. We will watch things, and explore Birmingham, and visit floating cafes, and he’s bringing up a hard drive to take advantage of my deliciously fast internet.

Also, alongside the essay planning and reading and presentation-last-minute-scraping-together, I’ve been writing some fiction again, and will shortly have some fun things to post.

This week’s outgoings:
£61.60

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4 thoughts on “scotland is not a country; you are an englishman with a dress

  1. As near as I can tell Scotland is basically the UK’s Texas. Full of terrible examples of citizens, and so obnoxiously and unwisely clamoring for ill-conceived independence that the only reason you don’t grant is because it’s a fine thing to hear the lamentations of your lessers.

    • brosencrantz says:

      Also unlike Texas, the better part of their oil ran out years ago so they no longer have a hope of economic independence. Also, it’s pretty, and produces awesome writers and the Fringe.

      It was, however, a TF2 quote. (Soldier dominating Demoman.)

  2. huntersglenn says:

    I don’t know if you’ve tried this with your soups, but if you can find it and can afford it, add a stock or broth of some kind to the soup in place of water – you can experiment as to whether beef, chicken or vegetable taste bests with different kinds of soups, and it really doesn’t matter if it’s stock or broth. Just watch out for the sodium content, since canned or boxed versions of stock and broth seem to be high in sodium. Stocks or broths are also great for making rice – gives it a nice flavor.

    Good luck with getting that ‘yes’ answer soon!

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