Bryn is here. On Saturday, we did very little. On Sunday, we went to Carlisle where we tried to find "Lord Of The Rings" audio cassettes without success, he played Laser Tag and we saw "A Christmas Carol". We were the only people in the cinema.

Yesterday, we went to Newcastle. While we waited at Brampton station (which looked very Dickensian in the snow, as it's in the middle of nowhere, unmanned and despite the fact that the first automatic ticket machine was invented in Brampton, there isn't one), Bryn grew incredibly worried about what the train would be like, since there was no evidence of electricity. He envisualised a steam engine. However, it was a diesel powered one.

In Newcaslte, we spent two hours trying to find "Lord Of The Rings" audio cassettes without success. Fortunately, I chanced upon a copy of "Lord Of The Flies", which I've been meaning to read for ages. So I went to pay for it, and two highly funchie things happened. Firstly, the shop assistant told me I only had to pay £4.99 instead of the marked price of £6.99. Secondly, I spotted the LOTR tapes behind the counter. So Bryn bought them, and thus far (we've listened to three sides out of twenty eight) they are wondrous. I also got "Broken" by Nine Inch Nails and some fluorescent yellow nail polish. A very Lordy and naily set of purchases all in all.

In the evening, we went to The Twisted Wheel to see the new year in, since they were having a rock night. According to their website, anyway. When we got there, they were playing Basement Jaxx or someone equally not-rock and then they started playing S Club 7. Arrrrrgh! And it wasn't even one of their better songs! Bryn went through his many pockets, looking for money with which to buy a drink. As soon as he handed it over, they started playing "Hot Dog" by Limp Bizkit (of which I am overly fond). Typical! So we started dancing . . .

. . . and it was absolutely MINT! While they didn't play any of my favourite songs (apart from "The Beautiful People" by Marilyn Manson), every one they played I wanted to dance to. They altered the musical style between nu metal, older metal and even some electro stuff, but it was all Funchie With A Capital F.

And then they played "Fight For Your Right To Party", which doesn't sound particularly rock-y and also concerns the dreaded cringeworthy notion that Partying Is All That Matters. (As with "Party Hard", which they played earlier, but that has some of the funchiest riffs going.) But we danced to it regardless. But it only got worse. They played some soully dancy bumph and then THE VENGA BOYS! ARGH! The last people I expected to hear there. A group I thought I'd seen the last of. An act I'd almost forgotten about. But they were back to haunt me. Noooo!

And it continued to be Bad. Some of it we danced to - "You're The One That I Want" and "Hot Stuff" - but it was mostly too horrible to endure. After half an hour, they started playing some rappy metal, but as the clock struck midnight we heard "Mambo No. 5" and The Outhere Brothers. Ewwww. When they played "I Like To Move It" by Reel 2 Real featuring Mad Stuntman, I insisted we left.

What went wrong? Last year, it was five hours of pure mintiness. The mostly confusing thing of all is that above The Twisted Wheel are two other nightclubs, one which plays commercial dance and one which plays retro stuff, I believe. That night, if you paid to get into one, you could have gone to all three. So why was the rock floor poisoned by bumph? Gah!

Had a dream which ended with me writing a journal entry consisting of the sentences, "It is a tragic day. Bryn has had his hair cut."

Wednesday 2 January 2002

There's an advert on TV for Skoda which is rather amusing. The car in it has a number plate containing the letters "YOJ". Considering the number of people I know who use that word, I really do wonder . . .

Friday 4 January 2002

I've finished reading "Lord Of The Flies" (which I would call "Lord Of The Zipper", but the amount of "Lord Of The Rings" slash about at the moment might make that misinterpretable, although I'm sure hobbits favour buttons). Unfortunately, since it featured young boys named Robert, Simon and Roger, I kept thinking about Cures In The Closet.

Last night, the least well-attended of all the geenic reunions occurred. The best one was in August 2000 (as far as numbers went anyway): me, Hel, Will, Roe, Chris and Paul. This time, there were an amazing three people there: me, Bryn and Smill. Two of whom had seen more than enough of each other over the last few days anyway. Well, Will was working. Roe's home phone was engaged, his mobile unanswered, he wasn't online and I sent him a text message but got no reply. I phoned Marion as an afterthought, on the grounds that she probably wouldn't come, but she agreed to do so. But the next day she cancelled. Heurgh. And I was prepared to invite Chris if Bryn wanted to see him, and Bryn was prepared to let Chris come along if I wanted to see him, but since neither of us did, he went uncalled. Nevertheless, it was a good night.

The record shop in Brampton is gone. Which is no real surprise because only 4000 people live in the town's environs, only a small proportion of which have any knowledge of Can and Captain Beefheart, much less have a regular demand for their records. However, it is A Bad Sign. Worse still, in its place, a shop selling nothing but Beanie Babies has sprung up. Yesterday, Bryn insisted we went in, and he instantly found the crocodile / newt / eel Of Death! Argh! He did find a rather mint teddy bear, though: bat bear, clad in black leather. It even had a nice smile.

Sunday 6 January 2002

I have wanted a long coat since at least late 1998. And now I have one! Yoj! It's black and leather and flattering. I [hart] it!

Unfortunately, on my way to The Leather Clothing Company, I walked past Siesta, which had a big sign saying "MASSIVE SALE!" in its doorway. Of course, I had to go in. Above the PVC clothing rack, another sign said, "50% off all PVC". 50%! And so naturally I had to buy the red top thing (it's sort of like a basque but not as bosom-enhancing) that I tried on a while ago. It was £11 instead of £22, but eek, the term has not yet started, and my entire student loan will be used to rid me of my overdraft. Also, I wore it last night (the red thing, not my student loan) to Harvey's 31st birthday party sit-in-a-pub and Bryn wasn't the only person who tried to put things in my cleavage. Somehow, I don't think I'll be wearing it when I go headbanging tomorrow.

Oh yeah, Roe is still alive and Rohanic. Before Bryn and I left Carlisle, we went to Games Workshop, and he was there, waving a couple of rulers around like swords. He'd just been being forgetful and not checking his phone.

Monday 7 January 2002

Zed: Do your drawers go *purrrrr*? 'cause last year, mine went Uh! Uh! Uh!
Alex: Well, they don't actually purr at me, but yeah.

Zed: I'm the only person here who's not a cat person!
The Other Five: Die! Die! Die!
Zed: But I like coats! Will that do?
They decided it would.

I have a new job! Teaching Sadistics! I get to demonstrate how to use a whip! Well, how to use the F Distribution. Close enough.

Tuesday 8 January 2002

Last night, while walking home from The Beercart Arms, some guy came up to me and Bryn and asked if we were the Motorhead appreciation society, or something.

"No," said Bryn.

"I've got a t-shirt, but that's it," I said.

"I bet you hate them though."

"No, I like them."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Because I'd have to kill you otherwise."

"Er, good?"

He then went on to say that he lived with Lemmy, because he was the only person that understood him. I'm not surprised!

Saturday 12 January 2002

Today, I went into Canterbury to buy some Mr Muscle Bathroom (as our landlady has threatened to do nasty things if we don't clean up the house soon-ish) and a fan heater (as my housemates refuse to have the central heating on for most of the day, to save money, and I can't cope without it). I came back with the Mr Muscle and £20 worth of books. Nooooo! I am not supposed to be spending money this term! Ack!

Well, I went with Ibid, who asked if we could stop at the indoor market, so she could look at jewellery. There, I noticed "Fever Pitch" by Nick Hornby, for £2. Since I've been curious to read it for a while, but not enough to pay £6 for it, this was too tempting an opportunity to resist.

Then I remembered what book I wanted to buy: a David Bowie biography, since one of my characters is a huge fan so I decided I needed to learn a more. So we went into Methuen's book store, failed to find one, but I did come across "Babyville" by Jane Green for £6.50. It's been out in hardback for ages, costing about £11, so I've been waiting for the paperback to come out. But it's still not available, and it's probably going to cost about £6 when it does arrive . . . so I thought it was worth 50p to have a hard-backed book earlier.

And then we went to Waterstone's and found three biographies. The one I wanted, by David Buckley (who wrote The Stranglers'), was £11.

The fan heater didn't happen, because as we were crossing the road to get to Safeway's, Ibid discovered that her cross necklace (which is v. precious to her) was missing. So we back-tracked through Canterbury looking for it. (She eventually found the chain in her trousers, but not the cross. Splerd.) After that, since the only place I can think of that would sell fan heaters is Argos, which is miles away, my hands and feet refused to let me go there.

Oh well. If I get too cold, I suppose I can always burn the books.

Sunday 13 January 2002

Bryn's parents came round at the unearthly hour of . . . well, 11.55, this morning. With them they brought a chest of drawers, in the hope that we'd be able to find a use for it.

Oh we found a use for it all right . . . bwahaha!

Sorry. Will be less smutty tomorrow, honest.

Oh yes. I have a theory: Nine Inch Nails albums might be expensive, but it's possible to get three for the price of one. If you buy "The Fragile" and drop it then it becomes "Broken". Then, if you stick it back together again, it's "Fixed".

Tuesday 15 January 2002

When I first came to UKC I didn't know what nu metal was. I recognised about one song played at the first Pit I attended. I didn't like nu metal then and still don't. I shamefully like a few numbers by Slipknot and Limp Bizkit, and think The Daft Ones are ok, and I'm quite partial to bands with two-digit numbers in their names - 28 Days and Sum 41 - but none of them feature in my extensive list of favourite bands.

Last night, however, I was talking to Soppygit: "Oh, I got the Lost Prophets album today." "What's this?" Sleeve, at her side as usual (they're going out now), asked. "I got the Lost Prophets album." He gave me an imploring look. "Ok, I'll do you a copy."

Sleeve, who I've known since the second day of my first year, when the first thing he told me were all the nu metal bands he was into. Sleeve, who is soooo nu metal he was wearing *two* band hoodies yesterday. (He lent one to Soppygit on the walk into town, though. SOPPY!) Asking *me* for a copy of an album which I believed every self-respecting nu metaller should have bought on the day of its release.

And then I was talking to Iain, never seen out of his Perfect Circle and Daft Ones hoodies and Disturbed shirt. (Ok, he has a Smashing Pumpkins hoodie too, but the wardrobe still indicates a strong nu metal appreciation.) And when I told him about my most recent acquisition, he told me he'd heard it and it was really good, but he didn't own it. So I offered to copy it for him too.

And then later, at The Beercart Arms, Ian, whose musical tastes I don't know besides Rammstein but I suspect likes some nu metal too, asked me what the song he was going to mental was. "'Black And White' by Static X," I said, instantly.

And then! And then! And then! </dudewheresmycar mode> They were playing "Killing In The Name Of" which about thirty people were dancing to (quite incredible, considering the size of the dance floor). And as the moshpit started for the fourth time, all this testosterone inside me said, "Hey, Zed! Bet you didn't know you had any, did you? Just to let you know we're taking control of your body for a while." And with that, it was flung into the moshpit, where it fared quite well.

I never mosh. I'm a wimp.

Argh! What's happening? Next thing you know I'll be going out to buy a pair of trousers big enough for ten of me, complete with wallet chain.

Nevertheless, I retain some of my old untrendiness. My back aches from headbanging low enough for my hair to touch my boots. My feet are blistered from stamping along to "Links 2-3-4". And the clear-out song was "Prince Charming", which is completely un-metal and completely impossible to dance to, but everyone loved it.

In other news, this term I am doing five modules (for the first part of the term anyway). Two of them make no sense whatsoever (one of the lecturers spent about four hours last term trying to explain spanning sets by sticking pencils in a lump of plasticine), so I spend them writing in my paper journal and doing homework for other subjects. But when I left one today, I saw the bloke behind me had spent it doing a series of sketches, so I'm not the only one! Staring at the sun! Oh no, I'm having a U2 moment - and I can't get out of it!

Friday 18 January 2002

Saw Australian gay porn film last night! It was really depressing and the protagonist wore the most horrible turquoise shirt for the majority of it, but still. I [hart] my campus's cinema!

Last night I dreamed I was going out with Anna The Goth. Bryn was going out with her boyfriend. I shouldn't watch gay porn films just before sleeping.

Monday 21 January 2002

Another Monday, another excursion to the rock night at The Beercart Arms. Despite the absence of Ibid (watching the film society’s presentation of "Metropolis", Soppygit (working on overdue essay) and Sleeve (hanging around to give Soppygit emotional support when she finished working on the essay for the night - SOPPY!), an interesting night was had.

I didn’t actually make it into Keynes Bar (the ubiquitous starting point of any rock society event), because Sarah and Fiona waylaid me outside, and we were joined by AJ and Bryn (who’d been in the bar, but had left again due to the presence of A Really Annoying Person.) Sarah, Fiona, AJ and I decided to leave early so we could say hi to the cash machine on the way into town, so we tried to ice skate across the tiles leading out of the college.

Once the cash machine had done its funchie stuff, we were cold. I’d decided to go ultra goffic and wear my Cure shirt, short PVC skirt, dsntgrtng fishnets (tights and homemade gloves), whiteface and the ubiquitous New Rock boots. (I tried to do a funchie two-bunched goffic hair-style, but despite the fact that my hair comes to the bottom of my breasts, it still needed to be about six inches longer.) So we set off . . . but by the time me and AJ reached the bottom of Eliot footpath (about a quarter of the way there), the other two were nowhere to be seen. When we finally got to the pub, they turned up half an hour later.

In town, we found Alex, walking in the wrong direction, and as the rest of the rock society caught up with us, we persuaded him to turn round. As we entered the pub, the DJ was playing Queen, but they quickly changed it to "On A Rope" by Rocket From The Crypt. One of my favourites, yoj!

Denied of my first choice of partner in craziness (Ibid) and second choice (Bryn, who’d somehow injured his neck and couldn’t headbang to start with), I was calmer than usual, but due to a lack of seats, I kept dancing for the first half an hour. Owing to the noise and the oppressive heat, Alex and I resorted to our old ways of standing outside in songs we didn’t like. While we were there and the sixth song of the night was playing, this bloke came up to me and said, "I noticed you dancing to Helmet."

"Was I?" I asked. "I like all this stuff, but I don’t know what any of it is. Except for ‘On A Rope’. And ‘Roots Bloody Roots’. And - what are they called, begin with an S, not Sepultura - Soulfly, that’s them, ‘Back To The Primitive’. And this song." Which was a metal cover of "The Model" by Kraftwerk, and was funchie. He then told me about a friend in Japan who sent him rare music. I [hart] random conversations!

The DJ is psychic! Outside, Alex said, "I wish they’d play some Rammstein, or a bit of Fear Factory." There was no way on earth the DJ could have heard, but a second later, "Linchpin" by Fear Factory started, followed by "Links 2-3-4" by Rammstein!

Over the Christmas holidays, I learned that Marilyn Manson had covered "Tainted Love", by looking at the options on Kerrang Interactive. Since I [hart] "Tainted Love" (it was quite possibly the first song I ever heard), but I’m rather fond of Mr Warner’s music too, including his cover of "Sweet Dreams", I was curious to hear it. However, since the virtual VJ lacks the aforementioned telepathic powers, I hadn’t time to wait until it was played, and the single isn’t going to be released for a few weeks yet. So I was anxious to hear opinions. From some people, who like both the song and the artist, I had heard that the cover was pants. From others, that it was wondrous.

But that night, I got to hear it myself. I am firmly in the "PANTS!" camp. All the original energy and intrigue has been sucked out of it, and monotony does nothing to make it sound more angry. The assistant head of music at the radio station offered me the chance to review it next week, so I agreed heartily. I’ll give the record company what for!

In spite of this, I requested "Disposable Teens" later. The DJ agreed, and went on to play "Beautiful People". Geen! Oh well, I like that song too. In general, it was a gute night. They played Godhead’s remix of "Eleanor Rigby", "Wait And Bleed", "Shinobi Vs The Dragon" followed by "Black And White", and "Love Cats", although Dale was immensely annoyed, because he was getting a drink during the latter. The night ended with one of the Rage Against The Machine songs (can’t remember which), "Prince Charming" and the wondrous lighter-waving "Blackhole Sun".

I didn’t jump up and down or stamp much, but my feet still hurt. I didn’t mosh - twas a bit vicious for my liking and I thought it would be too evil to join in while wearing concealed spiked bracelets, since most of the participants were my friends - but all my garments were soaked with sweat. I headbanged less than usual, but my back was killing me on the way up the dreaded hill back to campus. Nevertheless, our spirits were high. "Stamp on his b******s!" Bryn yelled, at the man painted on the ground at the top of Eliot footpath (as opposed to the bike painted on the parallel cyclepath). So we did.

Tuesday 22 January 2002

Zed: So, what music are you into [looks at bloke’s t-shirt] besides New Model Army?
Greek Bloke With Unspellable Name And New Rocks: New Model Army and New Model Army.

Games Workshop has been on the peripheral of my existence for several years now.

In case it is entirely mysterious to you, here’s the idea: you buy a bunch of models of creatures and their machinery from here or one of the high street shops or by mail order. You form armies with them. You put some armies on a table, and they fight each other. The success of various actions is determined by dice. The major ones are Warhammer (which includes elves, dwarfs, goblins, that sort of thang), Warhammer 40000 (which includes space marines and stuff) and a Lord Of The Rings game.

When my brother was quite a bit younger, he bought a load of Warhammer 40000 miniatures. He enjoyed painting them (and was very good at it), but couldn’t be bothered playing the game, because there were too many rules.

Roe missed school once a year, in order to attend conventions. He now works in the shop in Carlisle during university holidays.

Bryn also enjoyed Warhammer during his preteen and teenage years, but had given up since arriving at university, due to lack of time and funds.

And when I brought up the subject with various online friends, they also confessed to having enjoyed at least one of the games at some point in their existences.

I have been a bit critical about this pursuit in the past. Despite being frequently addicted to a D&D computer game and therefore totally sad, I see no reason not to mock others who enjoy equally anorak-ish activites. However, I am now forced eat my words. Fortunately, they are quite tasty.

When Bryn and I went to Newcastle on New Year’s Eve, we found ourselves with five hours and not much to do in them. So when we spotted a Games Workshop, we went inside, and he asked one of the shop assistants for a demonstration (since they’ve revamped the rules since he last played). It should be, at this point, noted that Games Workshop is not like most shops, where the assistants keep talking to other assistants as they reluctantly sell you something. Oh no. Not only will they talk at length to you about rules, strategies and what’s available, but they’ll give demonstrations of how to paint the models and fight battles against you.

After that, we decided we should start playing. We picked armies: Chaos Warriors for him, Dwarfs for me (since I like playing the dwarf in the Heroquest computer game, and my fighting strategy in Angband is to forget magic, fire loads of arrows as the enemy approaches, then hit them when they’re close enough). He bought the rule book, and I bought the Dwarf book, and we set about working out what our initial armies should be. (It’s quite an expensive hobby, so we’re starting with small sides, whose battles will probably only last an hour.)

My main worry was: would I like it? I’d never played tabletop games or even roleplaying games before. We were going to play a Star Wars game. We worked out characters for it, but then we thought it would be better to start with D&D . . . only to realise you needed four people to play it. Also, all Bryn told me about it seemed rather confusing. I was more interested in learning to speak Dwarfish than anything else . . . until I realised the dwarfish word "bryn" means "wonderful in every way". Huh!

Anyway, we were planning to buy the first sections of our armies yesterday, so I thought I’d go into Games Workshop on Saturday to ask for a demonstration.

I was a bit nervous because I hadn’t got very far through reading the rule book and didn’t want to seem totally stoopid and typically female. (Most Warhammer players are male. During the two hours I ended up spending in the shop, I saw one young girl buying some stuff, but the only other females in there were mothers and bored girlfriends.) When I went inside, one of the workers said hello to me (he remembered me buying the dwarf book). The place was absolutely packed and all the assistants busy, so I went to look at the models I’d be buying for a while. Then, I managed to catch the eye of the assistant, and he asked if he could help.

And so, an entire walkthrough took place. I told him the ideas for my army, and he made some helpful alterations. He then worked out an army for himself. This took a while, because people kept interrupting to buy things. Kids were still spending vast quantities of Christmas money there.

Then, we played. The shop had mostly emptied by then, but there were a few customers left, who gathered round to watch. Eek!

My game started rather well. I rolled three consecutive sixes, which meant I got to pick which side of the table I wanted (very useful, given both sides of the table were identical), got to choose who set up their army first, and got to choose whether to start or not. Unfortunately, after that, my dice were ridiculously bad. And so the guy in the shop went on and won, even though I should have beaten him. Nevertheless, everyone groaned in sympathy with each 1 that flew from my fingers, and I don’t think I asked too many idiotic questions.

And so, on Monday, Bryn and I bought our miniatures and we’re currently in the process of assembling them. The only problem is: the game is invading my dreams. I’ve already had two. One where Bryn’s mother awarded us with more "points" to spend on our armies, and I was frantically trying to work out how to allocate them. The other, where we were having a thousand-point battle, and I wasn’t sure how to manoeuvre my troops for the best. Oh dear.

Most people have certain words they cannot pronounce. For example, Bryn cannot say "genre" - he always saying "gendre". And Ibid says "deerections" instead of "directions", which causes much amusement, and "Richey Sambora" instead of "Richey Edwards". However, teachers' and lecturers' mispronunciations seem the most amusing of all, perhaps since they're meant to be specialists in their fields, and should therefore know how to pronounce what they're talking about, if nothing else.

One of my olde Physics teachers was pretty bad. He said "steereo" instead of "stereo", "compass" so the "com" rhymed with "bomb", and "ky-netic" for kinetic (which is very very wrong in England). However, it is coming to my attention that Maths instructors have terrible problems with the Greek alphabet.

I am very particular about the way this is pronounced, because time after time, people phone my parents' shop asking, "Is that Omeega Music?" Do their children play games on meegadrives, I wonder?

He who taught me for my last two years of school always pronounced "theta" as "teeta". He was Irish, so this is therefore forgivable. (Or tis is terefore forgivable.) Unfortunately, it was contagious, so Chris, Roe and myself (his only pupils) all started going on about "sine teeta" too. Also, strangely, he pronounced "beta" as "bayta".

And now I have a lecturer who says "phi" as "fee"!

Thursday 24 January 2002

My Dad has been in hospital lately, having an operation. It seemed to be successful though, and the after-effects weren't as bad as he'd been expecting. Don't you think it's slightly weird for your business's accountant to visit you socially twice in the space of a week? He was a fellow parent at my old skool (his daughter was in the year below mine), but I still think it's a bit excessive!

Yesterday, I had two hours of lectures, both incredibly boring. The first, unfortunately, was for a subject studied by only about twelve other people with a lecturer who keeps looking round earnestly in the hope that someone will reply to one of his questions with more than a just vague nod, so it was impossible to resort to my usual misbehaviour of doing homework for other subjects. The lecturer for the second, however, has spent the last eight lecturers deriving formulae, blissfully unaware of the fact that it is impossible to pay the slightest bit of attention to what he's saying. One of my friends brought a pillow along today! The only redeeming quality of his teaching method is that he has a byutiful Scorttish accent.

I spent the two hour gap that followed reading and writing in Livejournal. Just as I was about to set off for Keynes College, Bryn found me and walked me there. We parted company at the vending machine, and for the first time, I succeeded in getting to the computer room via the less convenient staircase without guidance, although I did ask for directions before embarking on this hazardous journey. I supervised a first year Minitab class, but was only asked a couple of questions, so I was told to leave early. Then, I returned to Eliot College, and set about completing the construction of my army.

I spent the next three hours learning far more about dwarf anatomy than I will ever need to know. (This is why I don’t read Lord Of The Rings slash.) I gave twenty six of my models heads. Then I gave all thirty two of them right arms. Those that held crossbows ended up at terribly unrealistic angles due to interfering beards. Then I gave them all left arms. Stupid beards got in the way again. Bryn arrived just as I finished adding the cursèd shields, which are hard to stick on at the best of times, Bryn acknowledges, but yet again, the bloomin’ beards made it even more difficult. I do like the dwarfs – the more I learn about them, the more they seem to reflect my personality - but I wish they weren’t so proud of their beards. Some of them are seriously silly, with two plaits that reach down to their knees. Then again, I suppose I don't shave either, though. Speaking of which, I found I had a two-inch-long arm hair in one of my lectures, but I can't find it now to show it off to people. Anyway, finally, we added bases, waited for the glue to dry, and set off back to my place to play the game.

My fingers were cut to beep from twisting plastic all afternoon - my right index finger is still suffering now. My one remaining tissue in the world (I used to have a box, but it vanished) had to be sacrificed to wipe glue off the table. (I thought it best not to re-use it for nasal expunging purposes, since sniffing glue is baaaaad.) And everyone who entered Eliot computer room during those hours, or saw me walking round earlier carrying a Games Workshop carrier bag now thinks I’m totally sad. WOE! UNTO! MEEEEEEE!

However, I did rather enyoj the game, despite totally losing. Most of Bryn’s forces were supreme wusses, but he had an evil thanely bloke on an agitated racehorse who was impossible to kill and eliminated two of my three units just by me getting four improbably unlucky dice roles.

Only problem was, I went on to have yet another Warhammer dream, where I couldn’t do anything without my army following me. My only comfort is that Bryn has been even more affected. On Tuesday night, he came into his room after a long day which we'd mostly spent away from each other. I was lying in bed and his chaos warriors were lined up on his table. (Well, it's actually a circular shield wedged into a chest of drawers. It's quite effective, really.) He said, "Ahhhh!"

Is he going "Ahhhh!" over me or his army? I wondered.

"I'd forgotten how nice it is to have your army lined up in front of you," he said.

Oh, cheers! No sex for you tonight, pal! Except he didn't want any anyway, since I'm bleeding. Gah!

Friday 25 January 2002

Today, I spoke to Ibid on the phone, who told me I'd received a package from Amazon. "Ah, must be my System Of A Down album," I thought. But when she brought it to me, inside, I found a delivery note saying that enclosed was a System Of A Down album, but alongside it was a self-help book! Perhaps they, in their infinite wisdom, detected my fear of nu metal taking over my brain, and decided to do the honourable thing by sending something that would repair rather than increase the damage already done?

Bizarrement! Tim just phoned me. By accident, I think, because although I could hear talking (something about boy bands???), it didn't seem to be to me.

Remember, boys and girls: don't forget to lock your keypads!

Later

Tim's phone fancies me! It called me twice in the space of four hours. Ooh, I have an inaminate object as an admirer.

Wednesday 30 January 2002

Ian is v. v. stoned. We went to the vending machines about an hour ago. I agreed to ask the barkeep to exchange his ten pound note for pound coins, since he offered to reward me with a Mars Bar. He then spent £6 on sweets, pressing the buttons randomly. Then he poured out the M&Ms into a tin with the Skittles and kept cursing, since he can't tell them apart, and he hates M&Ms.

Thursday 31 January 2002

There appears to be a world shortage of Mars Bars! The Eliot vending machines haven't contained any for over a week, and the campus shop didn't have any normal sized ones left last night, and hadn't restocked by this morning. Woe!