I’m back!

So I’ll bet you want to know what I’ve been doing with myself these past three weeks (well, you probably don’t but I’m going to tell you anyway). I’ve moved into a university-owned apartment that’s decorated like a doctors’ waiting room and my study-cum-bedroom is decorated equally tastefully and furnished with all the necessities of life: a wardrobe that’s just too small to fit all my clothes, a bed that’s just too narrow not to feel like I’m about to fall off (but what did I expect after sleeping on my own in a double bed for seven years) and a worktop that’s supposed to act as a desk but is just too shallow to fit my computer on. On the other hand, the building is very nice (a damn sight better than most of the other halls) and my flat-mates are brilliant. They shall henceforth be referred to as: the Doctor, the Absentee, the Gentleman, and the Persian. The Doctor is a medical student, obviously; the Absentee is never at home; the Gentleman is so-called simply because he’s the only one of the five of us that owns a pair of slippers; and the Persian is only half Iranian but I frankly couldn’t think of a better pseudonym.

Regarding my halls, there isn’t a fat lot else to tell. We seem to have developed a set of regular visitors to our flat and they may crop up from time to time on this little strand of the World Wide Web along with tales of outright surrealism from our living-room-cum-kitchen.

I suppose I’d better explain that last one. Take the conkers, for instance. The Doctor found some conkers in the road on the way to college one day and decided to string them up while we had a game. We ended up walloping our own arms a few times (funny how you never seem to do that as a kid) and eventually the Doctor won. A few days later, the Doctor decided to tie one of the conkers up, suspending it from the arm of the weight that keeps the kitchen door closed. Three weeks later and it’s still there along with a pair of somebody’s knickers. The Persian found them in his washing and nobody seems to be arsed to get rid of them so they’re now an unusual item of decoration in our communal area, along with the portraits of our household as drawn on some toilet roll tubes. We keep them on top of the TV.

Finally, I ought to mention the more bizarre aspects of my academic life. I have become a reluctant linguist. As part of the course, I’m supposed to do basic Latin. For me and the three of my course-mates who did Latin at A-Level, this would be an all-round waste of time. So this time next year, I should be a proficient reader of Old English, bringing the grand total of languages I can read to four. Polyglot or what?

And speaking of course-mates, Rose (one day I may or may not explain why I chose this particular pseudonym) deserves a mention. She is an Ancient and Medieval Historian like myself and, to my surprise, I came across her at the first meeting of the Sci-Fi society. We may have been separated at birth. Not only is she a major-league Doctor Who fan, but she also loves Queen. And Alice Cooper. We have even weirder things in common but I fear now that I won’t be believed, so I won’t bore you with the details. Sadly, she has a boyfriend (so much for the perfect match) but this has somehow not stopped me being wrapped around her little finger within a fortnight of meeting her. Now, where did I put that gimp-mask?

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~ by Scary Rob on 15 October, 2004.

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