One of my best friends from high school had a baby today. I’m eating cereal from a bag for my dinner, with the same plastic spoon I use to make coffee, in an empty university building. Life is weird.
My bag full of dissertation books and my laptop was so heavy it pulled me off my bike, cracking my laptop touchscreen and scraping the skin from both of my knees. I hate everything.
My bedroom is really tiny and vaguely depressing so I spent £4.50 on fairy lights and turned my wardrobe into a feature wall.
One of my flatmates has a job in a bakery/deli and keeps bringing baked goods home and now I’m never going to lose my dissertation weight gain.
Fucking H.G. Wells. First he knocks up lovely Dorothy Richardson and then he takes the (false, internet) credit for something Susan B. Anthony said.
My local Tesco haven’t asked me for ID in ages which is depressing. It’s bad enough that I really am a 23-year-old who buys wine in the afternoon but the Tesco workers think I’m older than 25 and buying afternoon wine.
I’m going to track down and murder this person if they don’t return this book soon. Almost a month overdue! It must be an undergrad who has gone on holiday and doesn’t check their emails. I get more angry about this every day.
The Australian will be joined at Hampden Park by Deacon Blue, Lulu and Dougie Maclean.
Since everything isn’t mega top super secret anymore… I’m also in the Commonwealth Games closing ceremony, by some kind of weird fluke. So far I’ve been to two rehearsals and it’s involved a lot of standing in the rain listening to a radio earpiece of people giving contradictory directions.
Glasgow is like a lovely European city at the moment so I’m not going to complain too much but could everyone learn to use shared pedestrian and cycle paths properly please? And also my bike basket is not a litter bin. I do not want your bible or your ice lolly wrapper.
Made a suffragette rosette this morning. I’m counting this as dissertation research, as was the graphic novel about suffrage I read last week…