Chris arrived home very late last night or, in truth, rather early for lunch today. He and Sarah may be fairly official now, although it is difficult to tell as he remains coy on the matter. This causes a certain amount of flat tension, since the bachelor blokeness of the flat has been reduced. Actually, Mark and I are close to committing flatmateicide. Jealousy is a terrible thing.   As it is, Mark and I are now spending our time bemoaning the lack of women in our lives. I am personally awaiting the call from God to become a monk. I've been looking out for a brown robe, just in case.   Saturdays are now rivalling Sundays as the least productive day of the week. Very little gets done. We rounded it off with a night in at Adam Kay's flat, watching a film with a complex plot, followed by some football. Sheffield Wednesday got beaten 6-1 by Manchester United. This did not please Chris at all.   The evening also taught an important lesson - ordering pizzas is an expensive business. I chipped in £3, and got two and a half slices of ham and pineapple pizza. Obscene. Oh well, it's a steep learning curve.
			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.