Work, work, work. I suddenly realise that I have practicals on Thursday and Friday, which leaves me today, tomorrow and Thursday evening to complete a HUGE tutorial.   I still feel the urge to go to Fifth Avenue tonight. This is my motivation. If I can do up to question 5, then I'll let myself go to Fifth Avenue. I finish question 4. I go to Fifth Avenue. Willpower is not my forte.   As it happens, I get into the club and discover that the nagging earache that has accompanied the day is only made worse by the music. I leave early. Life's a joy.   Once more, I learn about the night's exploits second hand. Dave apparently told a taxi driver that he loved him. This seems to be a weakness of Dave's (not taxi drivers - just telling people he loves them when he's drunk). More importantly, Chris came home rather late, having been dallying with Sarah Langford again. He's rapidly becoming a serial Sarahist.
			The characters and situations in this diary are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings. Any resemblance to such things is coincidental, or just for humourous effect. All names have been chosen to implicate the innocent.