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Wednesday 13.3.02 | Oh joy. Suggestions for what the hell to put up there, please. Thursday 14.3.02 Day spent more or less entirely bickering with Swyrie yesterday, culminating in her dragging me into the beardie-weirdie bonanza of 'Planet Organic.' For those of you not acquainted with this fascinating institution, it's the sort of place where you can buy a sandwhich which claims to solve your money-problems, keep your sex-life healthy and generally do you the world of good because all the stuff you're meant to put down your cakehole is organic and biodynamic ('what the fuck?' I hear you ask - it's a natural reaction, don't worry) and fluffy and lovely. So Swyrie occasionally waltzes into my room with a box full of salad containing whelks and sea-greens and all sorts of other shit, and I resist the urge to chuck up lunch. Anyway, getting back to the point which I appear to have departed from, I was dragged around to see if there were any organic almonds (honestly, I ask you,) which of course there were, and after taking out a small mortgage, Swy paid for them. I bought, just for fun, a pack of (wait for it) organic 'Choc-Yoghurt coated Banana Chips.' Although they looked like baboon-poo, they were actually quite nice and almost moreish. I was very surprised. Argument continued on the way to Will's for a delicious meal of Currywurst and Sauerkraut, reaching a climax (how the hell conversation went down this path I'm not quite sure) when I wondered out loud what would happen if God let out a fart. I mean, presumably wind from above would be quite powerful - hurricanes? So we arrived at Will's, giggling and stupid, and spent the rest of the night giving each other toothy grins and looking cautiously out of the window for any signs of divine arse-breath. I do have too much time to think. On another point completely, I learnt the other day that one way of translating the phrase 'make a mountain out of a molehill' into German is einen Donnerschlag aus einem Furz machen - or, literally, to make a thunderclap out of a fart. Fantastic language. Friday 15.3.02 Just in honour of Kath's birthday (have a good one, dear!), I am going to continue to regale you with the best bits of the German Swearing Archive - Warum stinken Furze? Damit Taube auch 'was davon haben. (Why do farts smell? So deaf people can appreciate them too.) I love German. Saturday 16.3.02 Manic day at work with the usual customer-hordes and lack of staff, swiftly followed by Fr. John's leaving party (a hideous bring-and-try bonanza where everyone contributed something edible - lovely idea, but grizzly as you spend the entire evening telling people how lovely their dipped sheep's cock is whilst gagging for a place to spit it out - fine, I'm being just a touch unfair, but you get the picture) and now I'm at home, which is lovely. It's amazing how quiet it is out here compared to Gower Street; just the simplest things - seeing the stars, taking lungfulls of air that are less likely to contain the gasous equivalent of a sewer, cuddling a mad, moulting, ultimately hariy cat - become joys when you realise that you have actually missed them. Monday 18.3.02 A day for despising. I wish it would just bloody chuck it down and stop this endless miserable drizzle - enough to make you look silly using an umbrella, and also enough to magically soak you within minutes of stepping out the door. I also despise my phone - all the text messages that people sent me over the weekend suddenly reached me this morning when sitting in the computer room - phone went beserk (was it something I said?) and received about 20 messages (YES, I HAVE FRIENDS TOO) and probably annoyed just about everyone there, not least me. Also despise Michel Foucault - arsehole blatantly wasn't getting enough (either that or he was obsessed with squelching and getting loads) to the extent that he wrote three books about it - the first of which I have to read, and goodness me did I not realise before now just how tedious sex can be. Whilst having a rant, I might as well mention too that I hate feminism. Nothing particular has happened this weekend to bring about this particular invective, but honestly - why can't people realise that men and women are fundamentally different, and at the same time, fundamentally equal? What's so bloody hard about that? All this positive discrimination bollocks mumble gripe groan seethe. Tuesday 19.3.02 9.00 am So far today I have managed to stub my toe on my bed, break the house washing-machine and also (very nearly) the house toaster. Just a minor prediction of doom, then. Oh well - just another 14 hours and the nightmare will be over, and it'll be Wednesday (and my French oral exam - yippee!)
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