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     Wednesday. Tutorial day. Work desperately to finish the work day. Oh joy. Dave looked very tired in lectures this morning. We discovered (via Christine, his flatmate and source of all gossip) that he had returned at five o'clock this morning. He was last seen with one Clare 'Robbie' Fowler. Hmmm. Lunch consisted of a dangerously coloured cup-a-soup, that claimed to be tomato and vegetable with croutons. It tasted like tomato sauce. Hot tomato sauce. I decided to drink it quickly so that my tongue would be sufficiently burnt that I couldn't taste it. The vegetables and croutons could only be distinguished by colour. In our hour of need, we were saved by Sarah Lee. She arrived asking if we wanted to go to Sainsbury's in her car. Chris was out, so he was unable to try on some car-based serial Sarah-ing, and Mark had a tutorial in an hour's time so it fell to me to do the shop of the decade. Since I was going by car, I could get all the heavy stuff that we would normally not be able (or willing) to carry back from town. I returned, and hour and a half later and fifty pounds poorer with numerous bags of crisps (light, but bulky), nine litres of orange squash (we drink huge amounts of it), meat, vegetables, fruit and other miscellaneous items. I also bought all the spices we need to make a real, proper curry. Mark has a book on the subject. Curry shall be made. Curry shall be eaten. In large quantities. The tutorial itself was passable enough. Dr. Fairbanks became most emotional about a fiendishly complicated molecule that destroys DNA. Each to their own, I suppose. After the tutorial, I fully intended to tidy my room, organise my somewhat loose-leaf lecture notes and write up last week's practical. Upon waking up, I decided to go to bed. It seemed the best course of action. |
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