There is something particularly dreadful about waking up, still dressed on a floor, having had little sleep and knowing that Andy Jackson will be driving you home in a few hours' time.   We all sat around in the marquee, eating breakfast and looking the worse for wear (particularly Aldo, who had neglected to bring some clothes to change into, and hence was still in his dinner jacket).   On the way home, we stopped at a service station to collect food, namely chocolate. The station's washroom was evidently designed by someone with a cruel and twisted sense of humour, since it was set up with a double row of wash basins facing each other with what appeared to be a mirror down the middle. In fact, the washroom was symmetrical and the 'mirror' was merely an illusion. This caused some confusion for some tired travellers when we went to wash our hands and discovered that we had no reflection. It takes some time for the 'oh no, I'm undead' feeling to be replaced by the 'oh no, I've just been had by a fake mirror' feeling.   We returned home feeling very jet lagged, which was quite impressive for a couple of hours' journey in a minibus. Andy may have been travelling faster than I thought. Having lost most of Saturday and a fair chunk of Sunday, the traditional tutorial crisis came back, bigger and better than ever before. It was further complicated by the fact that I had some quantum mechanics work to do in addition to the organic chemistry work. The quantum was of the 'optional, but you're obliged to do it' flavour. What's galling is that I can do quantum mechanics, given time and practice. Time and practice is not what I have at the moment. I do a question, so that I can at least hand something in, and then do to tutorial work.   I have an early night.
			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.