the Masonic conspiracy

Today the Mason residents’ association ran one of the few non-alcohol-related events of freshers’ week: a bus tour around Brum followed by all-you-can-eat Chinese. The bus was open-topped and I was on the top deck; the weather could conceivably have been worse, but it would have to work at it. The tour was excellent (Birmingham, to my surprise, has a huge and wonderful selection of good first-floor-and-up architecture from all periods), and the Chinese was not only varied and tasty, but they gave us takeaway bags (which I just had for a late supper); so really, two meals for the price of less than half.

(To one of the RA people: “How is this financially viable at £2 a head?” “Eh, we don’t really have to worry about that. Mason RA is loaded.”)

So, with most things apart from books unpacked and littering my room, I feel properly moved-in now. I have many minor quibbles with the flat itself (Mason flats seem to have been designed for illiterate party-animal students, and there are no bookshelves; a single half-broken sliding door is meant to service both the wardrobe and ensuite and does neither very well; the wet-room shower is very poorly engineered, and you end up with, well, a wet room) but no major ones; and the advantages (the excellent views, the reasonably spacious flat, the general not-having-to-fret nature of halls) certainly outweigh them.

And everything about halls is at the moment pretty academic because I’m hardly in them: I am thoroughly enjoying the term-start feeling of being as busy as a caffeinated bee. Meetings, plotting and webdesign for L4NL, event plotting and absurd guild paperwork for Warsoc, emails back and forth to cool Scholastic people. I am manning stalls on Thursday and Friday, and tomorrow I am to give an address to all the history freshers about SSC. I predict three riots and a torching.

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