I went to sleep early last night, with the intention of getting up and doing some work this morning, since I'm going to lose an evening and a morning going to this party. At midday, I awoke. After my customary showing, eating and wandering round the flat in a dazed and confused manner, it was three. By the time I'd got all my stuff together for the evening, it was time to get dressed. By the time I was dressed, it was time for some last-minute running around the flat looking for things I'd lost, and then it was time to leave.   We were going by minibus, with Andy Jackson driving. This was possibly a mistake. The interesting thing about minibuses it the fact that they are described as being '12 seater', '15 seater' and so on. They are not described as '12 person', '15 person', etc. since this would be a contravention of the Trades Descriptions Act. '12 midget' or '15 small children' would be more correct. This particular bus also had a sign saying 'nil standing'. The concept of anyone standing in that minibus is frankly laughable.   Once we had arrived, and the tyres had cooled down (and after Andy had nearly reversed over the marquee by stepping on the clutch instead of the brake), we got into our DJs and headed into the marquee. This was a most impressive example of its type - I have never seen a marquee with chandeliers before. Mark demonstrated his innate haplessness by forgetting his bow tie and had had to borrow one.   Mark and I were sat together, along with Sarah's sister and some other people. Chris was sat, not surprisingly, with Sarah. Mark and I were most amused to watch Chris on his best behaviour (he excelled himself, all things considered, and only blundered once by calling Sarah a slapper in front of her aunt, but this can only be classed as a minor misdemeanour).   Ed Carlin, on the other hand, very nearly caused a commotion since he hadn't realised that Sarah would be opening her presents in front of everyone else. Since he had bought mint chocolate body paint and a chocolate penis, this could have been embarrassing had he not told her to avoid opening them in front of her grandparents.   The DJ who had been hired for the evening was one of the ones who is over-fond of his own voice and keeps trying to jolly everyone along. Most irritating. He also tended not to play requests. When he did play one, it was 'Firestarter' by The Prodigy. After twenty seconds, the dance floor was clear. Most impressive. The main problem with listening to the Prodigy is that all in Flat Five become filled with the desire to cook curry, since we have been playing a Prodigy compilation tape in the kitchen all term. As soon as 'No Good' or 'Diesel Power' is heard, we immediately look for onions to chop.   One unfortunate moment resulted from Andy Jackson and Aldo Guiducci both having headaches and both deciding to knock back Ibuprofen, as well as alcohol. These two don't mix, and Aldo became further inebriated through the evening until he declared that he and Andy should have a fight. They stepped outside, before returning with Andy suffering a bruised shoulder (from Aldo kicking him) and Aldo with a fat lip and a torn dress shirt (from falling over when trying to do a spinning kick). Remember, kids - don't mix medicines with alcohol.   The most impressive moment of the evening was the Spud Cannon. This was a contraption made from high pressure piping which fired cores of potato at high speeds. Ed decided to try to catch the cores, until one whistled past his head before smashing into a pile of glasses behind him. Chris Seward, who had joined Ed in the spud-catching game, hit the floor swiftly.   As the night drew to a close, everyone looked for places to sleep. I fell unconcious in a room full of people in sleeping bags. I did not have a sleeping bag, so I just lay down near a radiator. I woke up later to find that someone had draped a sleeping bag over my somnolent form, which was thoughtful of them. I woke up again to find the owner of the sleeping bag (some bird called Layla) removing the sleeping bag. I woke up again to find that someone (Sarah's sister Caroline) had draped another sleeping bag over me. I gave up trying to work out whose sleeping bag I was under and went to sleep. It seemed easiest that way.
			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.