BACK IT COMETH

It’s 9am, I finished the 1^st year of my MA yesterday and I almost certainly should not be writing a blog entry. Surely, SURELY, I have better ‘initial freedom things’ to be doing (e.g. eggy brekkie, Runescape, prolonged bath etc), but the only thing my brain can process is more writing. Writing everywhere, here, there, hanging out on the stair(s). And surely, SURELY, you have better things to be reading (the news, that unfinished book, informative back of cereal box etc), yet for some reason you are here, following these verrrrrry words with your crusty little eyeballs. I only assume they are crusty because it’s relatively early on in the day and you might not have rubbed away 100% of residual sleep.

Due to the facts that a) I have eaten almost exclusively dry sandwiches for the past week, and b) no one did it anyway, I’m not going to give you any lists of three or any food/book/song recommendations - instead I’m just going to warble on about unrelated pap and try my absolute hardest not to ask the crisis question why do you think anyone would want to read this because sanity is important at this stage.

So the most interesting thing I can think of is that I kicked an eel the other day. I went for a swim at Southend and everyone insists it was just seaweed but for all of you doubters, read the below:

·      seaweed is soft

·      eels are hard

·      I’ve kicked fish before and am familiar with their firmness

·      it was definitely an eel

The second most interesting thing I can think of is that there is complicated controversy / confusion surrounding the resale of plots of land purchased by Greenpeace to prevent the expansion of Heathrow. The ultimate conclusion: bad.

I need to stop doing this now because I am vegetating. In my pants. Sitting on top of my bag full of clothes that I need to finish packing for my impending summer of exolondon existence. zoooooooooooooom off I go