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London was same ol' same ol', & by that I mean fucking beautiful, homely & fun. The only down point was Friday, but luckily I was far too drunk to remember anything. It's not clever. Not eating anything all day & then drinking so much in such a short space of time may also have played its part. I woke up & thought my feet were covered in mud, but no. It just rhymed with it. MASSACRE. I don't even know how it happened, I was wearing my new open-toe sandals, & therefore I must have walked in to something...with both feet. It's all very bizarre, I'm going to blame silent elves sneaking in to Emma's room in the middle of the night & stabbing my feet, & not the fact that I'm too old to be drinking like I'm still 18, & was wearing open-toed shoes.( Picture of the gore )
I am aware that my toes look like fingers that have been super-glued on to the end of a foot. I walked in to a step again this morning & can barely walk now, but I deserve it for acting like a cretin.
The rest of the week was a lot less tacky, & involved seeing everyone, a trip to Weybridge for a BBQ & comedy DVD night with Tim&Louise (that's them, there, grilling & whatnot).
Today we learnt about the student protests in France, 1968. Lauren & I felt all inspired & wrote a bitchy letter to a lecturer, telling her that her lack of communication & terrible timetable (giving us lectures two weeks after all the work had been handed in) was a bit shoddy. Maybe I should have burnt stuff in her office, too. Or at least written a death threat. I missed Neighbours due to her terrible organisational skills. SOMEONE MUST PAY!
I sometimes wish that I'd been born in to an age where revolutions were on every street corner, & people had secret handshakes. Swine flu will have to do for now, I suppose. I'm fighting the urge to stock-pile chick peas. I love a good panic.
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