At risk of rekindling
Monday: Counted every toothe in my head.

Not really, woke up at 7:00 on the dot, on the sofa, not feeling too hot, got about two hours, was worried about a fish staring at me all night.

Got on a bus after nearly one hour's wait and sat and was gradually squashed by one million people who got on. The bus soared up vertical peaks and hung momentarily in the air over clifftops. It eventually ploughed through the cutting into Tremough carpark and vomited us onto the pavement.

I trundled up the hill with an Alph Luacra in my stomach, rummaging and grumbling at the scantiness of my yogurt and bran flakes breakfast, hardly enough to feed a family of five.

Reception told me I wasn't due till wednesday and nobody had told me. I knew the second part of this already. She (reception) told me to go and do some writing.

I got back on the bus after a few more loads spilled out over the pavement and up and down the hills and out of sight, bubbling away as they went.

The bus back was smaller and more fun.

I visited Woodlane campus later and stuck up pictures of ME with ALEX NARKIEWICZ needs a house (and a lot of other arguably useless information) written on them. I'm looking at one now.

Later I ate hash cake, finished The God of Small Things (an amazing book) and began reading a touching graphic novel of Bobby's about a young Christian boys's first love and his battle with his conscience.

I drank a lot of tea.

Later still, we went to the (not a) pub at the quay side, called The Quay Side. We drank fine Cornish ales and shivered our way up the road to REMEDIES, the (not a) club.

Rumours of Phil Mitchell sightings had spurred us on. He lives here. Imagine.

In Remedies, the cider and black flowed like beer. I put up a poster and two girls came up to me and took most of my clothes off, much to my puzzlement. I later accused them (falsely) of stealing my tobbacco in the process, not mentioning my dignity, which remaine unfazed.

Bobby and I stopped off at Laura's on the way back, because Bobby is addicted to every drug under the sun. And he kicked loads of cats on the way there, probably. I knocked, and hid, and her housemate boring Ben the boring bleached blonde burke answered the door and said 'everyone went to bed HOURS ago' . Bobby was furious with my courageous hiding act, which courageously put upon him the blame of waking up boring Ben the boring bleached blonde burke.

Today I havent been awake that long but I have started reading BATMAN THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS and now I have some MORE numbers to call, and hope remains in this heavy heart, for it is heavy only with LIGHT.