For those of you who actually bother to read this crock of shit, I must apologise for the fact there has not been an entry in it for over a month. I have taken the route of making it more... minimalist, shall we say. I won't post things very often, and I have to say that I am glad that the period of addiction to this pointless activity is, I think, well and truly over (I think it may be one of the contributing factors in the failure of two of my exams at Christmas).
Anyway, here goes.

1. Somehow, against the unfavourable odds, I managed to pass all of my resit exams. Thus, I can now move freely into third year. I'm not sure how the hell I did this, since I got the distinct feeling that two of them went extremely badly indeed, and the papers seemed harder than they were the first time around. Eitherway, checking MyEd for exam results was definite heart-rate raising experience until the results came back.

2. A family have moved into the flat across the hallway from us, so if any of you feared the lack of an overly domesticated household in Strathfillan Road afterwrongeyed_jesus departed, fear not. The family has a sixteen year old son, who is taking Higher Physics this year; and therefore asked me to tutor him. I wasn't even looking for employment, but since Physicists are about as common as female clergy, it would appear I don't even have to try. Despite the fact I have even less spare time on my hands than before, I believe this is a worthwhile activity, because as Hector put it, "The best way to understand something is to teach it to someone else." Or words to that effect.

3. Living in the flat seems to be an alright experience. For those who believe shoving Kapil, gossamer_tune and myself in a flat together was not the finest of ideas, it seems to be working far better than expected. No one has so much as lost a limb, let alone died from the experience. Not even Alasdair is feeling bad. So all is good on that front.

4. My new timetable makes 2nd Year Physics look like a walk in the park on a Segway. Five 9am starts, 23 hours of contact a week, and plenty of tutorials which are yet to be scheduled. It would seem that dr_octavia and I are on the same acoustics course (Includes day trips to Belfast and York, for some reason), which is, as far as I'm aware, just about the easiest thing I have to deal with in third year - "You'll find it pretty easy, you will" said Clive Greated, who I visited to advise me as to which courses to take. Unfortunately, he couldn't inform me, because he appears to have dementia, and the semi-retired Murray Campbell is elusive in the department even at the best of times.

5. My sister has now arrived in Edinburgh, but seems to have tripped over the starting blocks, and spent half of her freshers week back in Glasgow. Homesickness, I guess. She should be back tomorrow, where I might be enlisted in getting her organised for the start of her lectures on Tuesday.

In a completely random order:

1. Could possibly be fucked for these exams.

2. The boat has departed for the Forth and Clyde Canal. I have grown some warmth for it in days of late.

3. Still into daily ritual of cleaning the kitchen, or at least doing the washing up.

4. Dan spilt ink on the mattress he's using (it's also the most expensive one we have) - USE A DESK.

5. Frances arrives here today.

6.Parents currently heading to Venice on their Inter Rail Euro Trip, which I'm jealous of.

7.Claire's doing OK, despite having to queue for eight hours for registration, she has now decided to settle in a woman's hostel for the year. It's cheap, has a cinema and a gym, and the cost of less than £1 per day includes food. No food poisoning as of yet.

8. Pat Kane and his girlfriend came here for breakfast this morning, bringing croissants and doughnuts with them, but I didn't eat any of them.

9. Grace's Mother, Sister, and friend are staying here on Saturday night. No, this isn't a refugee camp. It's way too clean.

10. I think Kapil is staying on Tuesday night for a resit he has the following day.

11. Grace leaves on Monday, and Mike next Friday. I think.

12. Found out that my new flatmate Alasdair is a Bedlamite. He's currently a producer of a play. I suspect he may spend his nights in Bedlam, and most likely end up sleeping there. At least he has an excuse for it because the flat is a 20 minute walk away, unlike Jamie, who seemingly couldn't bring himself to go home, when it was less than 2 minutes round the corner.

13. In celebration of the completion of the boat, Mike cracked open the Champagne given to him for his birthday. Literally. With an axe, he cut the top of the bottle clean off, sending the cork and the collar of glass flying into the garden. The Champagne was very nice indeed, but whilst drinking it, we managed to break 3 of our Ikea wine glasses.

Unfortunate realisation: I have taken to cleaning the kitchen daily as some form of weird tribute to Claire's absence. Or at least that's the only reason I can think of for doing it.

Yes, it is time to start revision for my 3 resits which will inconveniently occur during the Edinburgh Fringe. Fuck. Furthermore, I have decided not to tell my parents about any of my shortcomings this year, so I have relocated to Edinburgh to try and keep this secret. This is because I cannot be bothered having my self esteem weakened significantly by my Father, which essentially means he will call me a waste of cash, despite the fact that he got woke up one morning at my age on a French beach with no money, no passport, and no clothes other than the ones he was wearing - that's how he spent his parents' money. That, and I'm a poor investment, I should get a job at Greggs, there is no such career path for looking out the window, I'd make a crap physics teacher (apparently the only thing I can do with my degree).

And you can see by the fact that I'm currently on LJ that this is going well, especially since 2 of these resits are from the 1st semester, and I can't remember a single bit of them. Oh, and on top of that, I'd like to spend some of my time with Claire, before she commences her self imposed exile into India. Bugger bugger bugger. FUCK!

I might also be in a bad mood, though, because I am trying my level best not to eat as much sugar as I used to, since my dentist shoved a filling in my upper left molar. So, sorry about this, normal service will be restored after the withdrawal effects have cleared.

On another note, I'm now really into Torchwood. And Stevie Wonder. And I'm still on a Michael Jackson Binge, chamone.

(Well, actually yesterday, but I did start writing it then so...)

Yes, my teenage years are over, awoken by Claire phoning me at 10 am:

Claire: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY! You're Old!"

Me: "I've been old for the past 2 decades. What's new?"

Anyway, I can now open my copy of Logic Express, which I am currently installing on the computer as we speak. Other things I was presented with include:

• A window garden box, complete with herb seeds! I had the ambition of growing herbs on my windowsill like Jamie Oliver when I moved into my flat, but never got round to it. But now I can!
• A replacement iPod battery. My iPod recently has had a significant reduction in battery life, but we have no idea how to fix this, since even Apple are like, "We don't really fix iPods anymore, we just replace them for an extortionate price." Helpful.
• Some CDs: David Bowie's 'Hunky Dory' and 'Scary Monsters' and Peter Gabriel's 'So'.
• Doctor Who sticker book and 'Activity Collection', featuring challenging mathematical codes involving (oh dear God no) multiplication.
• A Space Invaders T-Shirt (Kapil will get the joke here).
• I requested a Phonejacker Doovde T-shirt to accompany the above, but for some reason I was given a second Space Invaders T-shirt. An exchange may be required.
• A cheap MP3 player which is incompatible with my Mac and everything on it except some WMA audio files that Hector gave me.
• The obligatory Floyd recordings, this time including a 1970s live bootleg on vinyl from 1974 featuring early versions of what became the Animals album and 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond'
• Burn After Reading on Doovde.
• A very nice bottle of single cask, single malt whisky, at 60.4% volume.

And when Claire arrived, she presented me with a pair of red skinny jeans, which I am wearing now, despite the blazing sunshine outside.

On Friday, I had a little party in the flat in Edinburgh with some friends. Events which occurred included:

1. My totally badass dancing, which was accompanied, according to my sister Lauren, by Michael Jackson-esque "Ow!"s and "Chamone"s.
2. This dancing was not only witnessed by my sisters, but also filmed by them. Keep your eyes peeled on Facebook for them!
3. My friend Robbie Cranston presenting me with a bottle of Champagne, which must have been shaken up, because the cork hit Claire in the face when she opened it.
4. Prior to the party, I decided for some reason to bake a mountain of cakes, including a Victoria sponge cake, an apple and cherry crumble, and two different varieties of muffin. Claire thought there was something wrong with me.
5. Robbie didn't give the best impression to many of my friends, particularly Hector, whom he refused to listen to, because he was English.
6. Claire invited her friend Laurie, who asked if he could bring 'a friend'. He ended up bringing quite a few friends, who were dressed up like punks. I would say they were punks, but they clearly weren't due to their friendly behaviour.
7. Will Blair turned up!

Yeah, you really had to be there to experience it. But the video will make a good substitute. Trust me.

Well, since my epic ‘War and Peace’ scale post about my recent trip to Paris is not yet complete, I’m going to type up this past weekend, which I spent in London. I am now on the train to Glasgow to meet Claire and Rachel, who is in Glasgow for the day.

But first, I think I should tell you about last week. On Wednesday, I received an e-mail stating that there were a limited number of production tickets still available to see Michael Jackson live at the O2 Arena, along with a pass code. It was already past 12 at work, and the tickets went on sale at 8am, so I knew the chances of success with this endeavour were slim, but I thought I’d try anyway. So, I went onto Ticketmaster and ordered 2 tickets for the show on the 3rd of August, for myself and Hector. And I was successful, much to my surprise. I had tried to call Hector, but it wasn’t until the evening of Thursday that I managed to get a hold of him. He questioned whether he would actually play or not, to which I responded that I didn’t know, but I was prepared to find out. A couple of hours later I was driving home from Claire’s house when I heard on Clyde 1 radio as I was driving up to the house that Michael Jackson had died. I laughed, not quite prepared to believe anything yet, since everything was Chinese whispers. I remember when there were reports that Dave Grohl died, and he was in reality fine. I sent a text to Hector saying that prospects of this gig were already looking interesting, and went inside the house, where Sky News had all the bases covered. I felt a bit weird, very odd, but also slightly humourous because of my purchase less than 48 hours previously. I went to bed, and decided that we would know for sure when I woke up. And he was officially dead by the time I got up. Claire called me to check I was alright, much like how Gavia texted me when Richard Wright died. The way the media covered it was almost as if a member of the Royal family had gone, such was his importance. Having grown up in his era of scandal as opposed to the King of Pop era, I don’t think I quite realised just how huge a star he was, namely because of how reclusive a life he lived.

Moving on to the weekend, after the revelation that the King of Pop was indeed dead, I got on a train to London; my Dad and 2 sisters got on a later train because Lesley had been out at her school leaver’s dinner the previous night and stayed over at a friends. Unfortunately, she woke up too late, and missed the correct train to get to Central in time for the intended train. I point blank refused to wait for Lesley, so I boarded the train in my own, whilst Dad and Lauren waited at Central Station. My Mother had also intended to travel with us, but she is unfortunately suffering with a collapsed lung at the minute, and decided to stay home.

Upon arrival, I was tasked with offloading the spare tickets to Saturday’s Neil Young concert. And when there’s a gig, who would I call? Yes, Kapil was quite tempted by the idea of Neil, especially supported by the Fleet Foxes, and free accommodation due to the absence of my Mother. However he was put off by the idea of sharing a bed with either my Father or me, and thus he decided against it. Though much to my surprise, there was someone in town: Gavia was in London for some reason I never quite established. I told her that we had 2 spare tickets, and thankfully her friend Grace had really wanted to go. So that was all sorted out. Good. So we then headed out to Hyde Park for the first night of the laughably named ‘Hard Rock Calling’ festival, which isn’t really that much of a festival, since there’s no camping involved, and many people only turn up to see the headline act. So, a festival for… clean people. Like Claire.

The first concert was Indie Night at Hyde Park, and I was unfortunate enough to arrive half way through The Kooks set. And I have to say they are just as annoying as I remembered them. Sigh. Anyway, after that The Killers came on. I have to admit I wasn’t looking forward to this as much as people thought I should, but then I remember just how many bloody hits they had across 4 albums or so. Opening with ‘Human’ (a track which doesn’t really stir up my interest much, due to it’s lack of guitar presence and Bono like lyric), they proceeded to play through a large selection of their best known songs, especially from their first album, which I was most happy about; I don’t think they’ve done an album as good since then. Anyway, after a final encore of ‘When You Were Young’, we went back to the hotel.

On Saturday, I wanted to show my Dad the Borough Market near London Bridge, so we went there to marvel at the culinary delights on display. After that, I left the rest of the family to go and do things, and I went to the Tate Modern. Interestingly, the turbine hall had no exhibition in it, so I walked into the area. It was weird, I felt like I was walking onto the set of a music video. Then I realised which music video. Hue and Cry’s ‘Labour of Love’ video is set in a warehouse. Anyway, after that, I went across the Millenium Bride to see if I could find one of those Pianos which had been placed around the city, and across the Thames, I found one. I played and sang (somewhat sheepishly) ‘Burning Down The House’, then used the provided songbook to have a stab (almost fatal, it was) at Hallelujah. I left the piano, after several tourists had taken my picture, and then some 14 year old decided to play some advanced blues. “Wank”, I said, before returning across the bridge.

I then went to Camden Market, mainly to just look around the place, before the storm clouds closed in. First there was light drizzle, then there was thunder. Then Lightning. I then got on the tube to Euston to Gavia’s house. And there was fucking hail there! Then in the 2 minute walk to Gavia’s house the heavens opened considerably, and I was drenched, despite my purchase of a light blue umbrella at the market (trust the cheapest umbrella available to also be the campest).

Anyway: NEIL YOUNG. He is awesome, namely for being a crazy ass, sixty something, who will play a song before stirring up all manner of feedback, and generally abusing his guitars. His set was mainly electric based, and the ends of his songs went on for absolute years, especially ‘People Rocking in the Free World’. Also, I love his guitar solos. After 2 hours or so on stage, he returned for an encore: a cover of the Beatles’ ‘A Day In The Life’. It was a suitable choice, because of the section of commotional noise in the middle and at the end. Young sang John Lennon’s parts, and Paul McCartney’s parts, much to everyone’s complete astonishment, were sang by PAUL MCCARTNEY. I was in complete awe, I have to say, even though Paul was clearly pissed out of his mind, since he seemed to be hugging Neil insanely tightly whist he played guitar. And then for the final crescendo, Neil went fucking mental, breaking all six strings on his guitar, and hitting it against the amp. Let me assure you, it was incredible.

Now standing was probably the last thing I wanted to do after that epic gig, but I had no choice, I had agreed to go with Gavia and Grace to see ‘As You Like It’ in a midnight performance at the Globe. The performance was quite excellent, but I got the jokes about 10 seconds after the rest of the crowd because I was so tired. I was leaning against the wall for most of it. My back hurt, and so did my ankles, but I’m glad I did it. The play finished at 2.40, which made for an interesting journey back, let me assure you. We got a bus to Oxford Circus, and then walked to Gavia’s place, where I got a taxi back to the hotel near Marylebone. By this time, it was almost 4 am, and I had received quite a few calls from my Dad which I had responded to like a teenager breaking the curfew: “I can’t believe you’re calling me. Go back to sleep.”

On Sunday, I tried to be energetic, but I’m afraid that just wasn’t happening. Still, I got the Tower of London done, which was ludicrously expensive, but I suppose vital to see just once. We then went to Regent Street, where I wandered round various sales in shops before decided I should just sit down before Bruce Springsteen in the evening. So I went back to the hotel, and read the newspapers.

We arrived just in time for Bruce Springsteen starting, and the park was packed: everyone loves The Boss. Despite being 60, he played for an astonishing 3 hours, and some members of the E-Street Band are older than him, notably sax player Clarence ‘Big Man’ Clements, who's pushing seventy, and still belts out sax solos, and of course goes for his occasional vocal cameo (5.56 in the video); he gets the biggest cheers when he sings. If you heard him, you’d understand, but you’d never explain it. In other words, he’s awesome. Bruce played many songs I didn’t know, but it doesn’t matter; he surpasses all that. The greatest victory was when my sisters started dancing. I was glad. Who took a train down a river called freedom? They know now.

Friday

dr_octavia  and Jamie's 11th flatwarming party has to be the weirdest yet. wrongeyed_jesus and I didn't arrive until about 10pm. And it was quite quiet at first. I had bought 2 bottles of wine, one for each of Claire and I. I think it's fair that I drank more of it than she did, however. Festivities started early in my drunkenness with a brand new offensive initiative: Dan abuse. You've seen Kapil abuse, now witness the same thing but with more swearing, more aggression, and directed at a different person. Later on, Jamie donned his sparkly purple dress, and gave people lap dances. As if this was not concerning enough, The dress was then passed round various males present; first to Jonas, who according to Claire pulled the dress off the best, due to his apparent lack of body hair. Then Alex had a go, giving Claire a lap dance. That was special to witness, I have to say. I then disappeared to the toilet, and I went into Jamie's room, where I found Kapil and Hector holding the dress, and looking at me. He ordered me to put the dress on, so I returned to the toilet, and emerged with the dress on, but my jeans were still on. So Hector removed them voluntarily. Cheers Hec. Much appreciated. I was then sent out to greet the crowd, who were surprisingly undisturbed by me in a dress. Claire told me to give Alex a lap dance, but as a small testement to not being quite that drunk, I felt it inappropriate, particularly since I can't really do the sexy dance thing very well. I'm a flailer on the dancefloor too, you know. So Jonas and I waltzed, as you do. I returned to Jamie's bedroom, and switched back to my normal clothes. The next thing I remember is seeing gossamer_tune  in the same attire. Thankfully, I decided to tune out of this, because otherwise I would have apparently witnessed Dan with major bump 'n' grind action against Jonas. Now come on, somewhere there lies a limit, you know. We didn't need to see dry humping.

Anyway, Claire and I returned home, brushed our teeth, and went to bed. Hector came home about an hour later. Then somehow after this, according to Hector, he heard a timid knock at the front door. He answered it to find me, in my boxers, who then mumbled apologetically, and returned to bed. In my drunken state, it would appear, I sleepwalk. This was weird to hear about the following morning.

Saturday

It was sweltering, and to get an accurate account of what had happened the previous night, I called up Kapil. I just wanted to check. Gone are the days where my memory are as clear as crystal from drunken escapades. After that, Claire, Hector and I went to the Meadows, since the weather was that warm and on top of that there was no wind. There was also an electronic music even happening, so I went there, and popped back when the sun had gone later. Dan also came, and we sat in on workshops on things we don't know much about. Like Cubase, and Pro Tools. I then went to the university computer lab to order Logic, which will arrive some time this week.

Sunday

Once again, it was boiling, so the Meadows was the destination once more. I had to buy sun cream. I then went to Lidl to buy beer, but unfortunately did not realise I actually bought a pack of 8 bottles of shandy, of less that 0.5% alcohol. None the less, I did get it for £1.49, and it was quite nice. But on the other hand, real lager would have been good, and I was also ID'd in order to buy said shandy. I fail.

At approximately 17.05 this afternoon, the Hector Handover took place. This is the ceremony where I ended my flatmateship with Hector, and passed on the baton to his new flatmate, Mike. Rather like a presidential inauguration, we raised our right hands and he repeated my words:

"I, Michael Walsh,
Do take this Hector,
And take responsibility for him,
To help me God."

We then shook hands, and hugged goodbye. The end of an era, summarised by this:

"Well obviously no one can replace me, but you can try." - Hector Cruickshanks, flatmate 2008 - 2009.

Furthermore, he found this in his copy of New Scientist:



New Scientist goes FHM. I certainly wouldn't expect that in a science journal, between an article on ancient artefacts and string theory.

Anyway, after the ceremony I got on a train, and returned to Glasgow. I start work for my Dad tomorrow. Sorting out files from 1996? I'm your man.

By request of Kapil, for the benefit of cobweb_diamond  and hearts_onparade  I'm going to put up the photos of my 'corrected' physics notes, which were on my wall as a revision aid. I never realised just how innuendo filled waves could be:

And mature, of course.


RoMPy FoMPy.


Cosine(breasts x time).


General opinion of the inventor of absolute zero temperature.


Hector has a rather unusual ability to mimic people's handwriting, so I think he did this one. Note 'BAng. Freq.uently' and the Poontang Vector.


I haven't heard of this identity before, I thought it might involve complex numbers (but that would also involve an imaginary penis).


THE MACHO CONE. You need one to fly supersonically.


Right. This is the formula you need if you want to find the critical cock angle.


Ok, Cockwaves is fine, but 'boobserved frequency'? It makes no sense.

And finally, I regretfully have to show what has been done to gossamer_tune 's 'artwork'. Bear in mind, they were drunk, Dan.



Yeah, I'm really sorry.

Right, now that my computer is back in functioning order, with no Dan in sight, and full English operation, I wall now go about telling you all about out trip to London.

Thursday

Claire and I get on a train, and arrive in London. We are greeted bycobweb_diamond  andgossamer_tune , who had mistakenly taken a bus down to London the previous night based on the assumption that we were already there. Therefore Dan arrived at Tom's house at an early hour of the morning only to find Tom, looking a bit disgruntled by the fact that his sleep was being cut short.

That evening, we went to a Blues bar behind Regent Street, and Claire got a bit overheated, so we went for a coffee, to a conveniently placed Candy Cakes store near Carnaby Street. Yes, I did have a cupcake. In fact, it was the second one I'd had that day.

Friday

We took the Tube (we all got Oyster cards - they are cheaper than tickets and fun to use, so it's good all round) to London Bridge to go to the (sold out) Globe Theatre, but is also near the (very expensive) Borough Market, which has the most delicious foodstuffs imaginable, all at a ridiculously high price. I bought a burger, and also shared the price of a focaccia with Gavia. It was very satisfying. We then went to the Tate Modern, where there was an exhibit I could climb on stuff in the Turbine Hall. This included two vertical planks of wood stuck to the wall, which one must stand in between and make your way to the top using the strength of your back, and the grip of your shoes. I didn't even bother trying, because I suspected it may have turned out much like Dan's attempt, i.e. total failure.

Anyway, after that, we ate something (I don't recall what), and then boarded the tube again to go to see a Charlie Chaplin film at Wilton's (a very old music hall). There was a very good guitarist accompanying the film, and believe it or not, it is actually funny, even in this day and age where it appears you need to offend someone to be funny - or in my case, look incredibly guilty in the ever so slight possibility that I could have offended someone - yes, I'm looking at you, Russell Brand. Wanker.

Gavia's friend Grace was there, and we went back to her place afterwards to play board games. First up: Trivial Pursuit: Girls vs Guys. The girls won. Saying that, this was 1980s Trivial Pursuit, so getting the right answer to the 'current javelin world champion' is not easy if you don't know what the present is classed as. We then moved on to Inspeaquence, the game where your team are given a subject which the opposite team have to guess from a sentence formed by the team members speaking one word at a time in turns. Oh, and you have to start the sentence with the word they give you on the card. This was fucking hilarious, especially since I have some of the weirdest mind patterns known to man:

Foe example, we had to describe 'toes', beginning with the word 'drunk'.

Me: Drunk
Dan: People
Tom: Sometimes
Me: Suck
Tom and Dan: WHAT?!
Me: Sorry, it was the best I could think of.
Dan, sighing: On
Tom: This
Me: Part
Dan: Of
Tom: Their
Me: Foot
Gavia: Is it toes?
Me: Yes.
Claire: Do you suck your toes when you're drunk?!
Me: Not personally, no.

Saturday

Since this was White Mischief day, we decided to take it easy and not do anything energetic, especially involving the baking sunlight. So we went to see Coraline in 3D, which was most excellent, especially when things came out at you from the screen. I then spent the walk back explaining polarisation of light to Dan, and how that relates to how 3D glasses work. In other words, I felt like a clever little physicist.

In the evening, we got dressed up for the big event. Dan walked into Gav's kitchen wearing nothing but a cream waistcoat on his upper half:

Me, somewhat awkwardly: Umm, right then.
Gavia: I think you should, like, wear a shirt.
Claire, promptly: I agree.

Thus he wore a shirt, despite his fear that he would be out-dressed by me if he did. By that logic, the way to out-dress me according to Dan is to wear less clothing. Interesting.

Claire wore her dress of netting and butterflies and mushrooms, and looked very nice indeed, I was dressed in majoritarily my normal clothes, with the exception of my new cravat and a white shirt which Claire had sewn lace onto. And with my long black coat back from the repair shop on, I looked like Mr. Darcy, apparently. Though, that was Claire saying that, so bias is quite evident here.

Anyway, I was surprisingly fine at White Mischief, nothing too horrifying present, with the clear exception of The Covent Garden Chainsaw Juggler. And even then, this was due to the health and safety issue of juggling a fucking chainsaw. Saying that, the most concerning thing after that issue was his choice of attire to perform this stunt. After all that, though, we had the music. First: The Correspondents, featuring, as Gav puts it, the "pornographically hot guy in black rimmed glasses" - he is quite good looking, I will admit. This was followed by Tough Love, who as far as I could tell an Indie Band who dress like Victorians. They had quite a good live presence, but the only thing I now remember was the song in which the chorus goes: "He's bi-curious, she's bi-curious".

After dancing to some Jazz and listening to the band who had (somewhat inconveniently) set up shop in one of the stairwells, Claire's feet were giving up the ghost, and we went back home at around 2 am. I also met Tim, who was immaculately dressed from head to toe. Therefore every time I saw him I felt obliged to check that my shirt was tucked in.

Sunday

I should pay some form of tribute to Tom and his flatmates for their incredible hospitality for the duration of our stay.  There's Ed, who is a biologist studying at UCL, and plays every instrument I can think of, makes his own beer , bread, and makes excellent scrambled eggs. His brother, Ash, is at the Royal Ballet school, and could probably high kick my ass through the ceiling, or something similar, but is also an excellent photographer, and is fluent in French. So, that's the wonder brothers. There is also Anthony, apparently more commonly known as Anthony.Love, who is a singer-songwriter. Again, yet more musical talent there. And of course, lest we forget Tom, who has a fixation with Patrick Wolf and loves rocks. And on top of that, they are all exceedingly nice, and seemed to care not that we commandeered their house for six days.

On Sunday afternoon, we went to see 'In The Loop' (£12?! WTF?!!), which is fucking hilarious just for the presence of Malcolm Tucker (played by Peter Capaldi), who is a government press officer, and basically yells at people telling them what to do in the presence of the media. Afterwards, we found that putting this character in different films would result in even more hilarity, e.g. Star Trek:

"You! Picard you baldy slaphead, these ion-drive batteries are about as much use as a marzipan dildo! And you! Velcro, Cling Film, whatever the fuck your called: your sacked, you freaky cunt!"

That evening, we returned to Gav's to watch Strictly Ballroom, a film about how one man is stopping a dancer from winning a ballroom dancing trophy using different steps from the ones allowed. It was fucking hilarious, and featured Cyndi Lauper in the soundtrack. It was Australian 80s gold from the same director as 'Australia'.

Monday

The British Museum had been high on Claire's list, so I gave way and we went to see all the artifacts and stuff. It's fucking massive, I tell you. Impossibly large. Anyway, we went to Waitrose afterwards and bought food to eat in the little park near Russell Square. It was lovely. We then returned to Tom's place to watch DEMOLITION MAN. Astonishingly, I had seen this film before, starring Sylvester Stallone as a cop, and Wesley Snipes as a camp psychopath. As you can imagine, this film was all we expected:

In 1996 police officer John Spartan (Stallone, also, WHAT A NAME!) is on the hunt for Simon Pheonix (Snipes). Eventually he catches him, but only after blowing up and demolishing a huge building, killing innocent civilians. Thus Spartan is classed as dangerous. Pheonix is put in 'cryoprison' i.e. a giant freezer for a couple of decades for his crimes. Then Spartan is also frozen for his 'crimes'. Years later, when society is completely devoid of violence (even swearing is illegal), Pheonix is set free, and starts killing people, but the police are no longer hard asses, and can't stop him. Therefore the only man who can stop him is: yep, you've guessed it, John Spartan.

This film should be seen for the one liners alone, though.

Dan left shortly before the film ended, to catch his bus back to Edinburgh. Ed then decided to bake muffins, which prompted from Tom:

"Oh good. If we're lucky, they'll be ready by the time Dan gets back."  Sorry Dan, but this is in reference to your last visit to London where you were meant to say for 2 nights, but ended up staying for about 5, for consistently missing the bus.

Tuesday

Claire and I said our goodbyes, and got the train back home to Edinburgh. There will be another post shortly with photographs of what I found upon my return.

Well, I would post about the greatness that was the past week, which I spent in London, but unfortunately my computer has gone a bit..... Denny.
Denny, just north of Moscow, it would seem.

I turned on the computer to find a negative picture of gossamer_tune staring scarily at the camera. This got the response of:

"Holy Motherfucker what is he doing there?"

Bear in mind I've just spent 6 days with him.

Other changes include the fact that Firefox was in Arabic, and the computer has been set in Russian. Excellent.

All the folders on my desktop have been changed to lurid titles, including:

• RoMP in place of FoMP
• Scrotum
• Semen
• Boris Johnson's Cock
• Cock Wank
• David Gilmour's Cunt
• Penguin's Anus

and finally:

• Private Photos of Daniel Tysen

And whilst these are easy to fix, I'm not going to until I get this back into English.

As, usual, I am blaming Kapil for this, but also dr_octavia . However, whilst I am a tad annoyed that I can't seem to fix this, I am also quite entertained. Thanks, guys.

OK, so I've just had my third of my four exams, Foundations of Mathematical Physics (hence FoMP), commonly known as just about the hardest pre-honours course Edinburgh University has to offer. And I have a distinct uncertain feeling as to how it went. Oh well. On to the next challenge: Physics 2B. Och.

In other news: wrongeyed_jesus  is now definitely going to Delhi. Again, och. She departs us on the 1st of August. I don't have much to add at this moment in time, I guess I'll see how I feel when I realise that her being in India means that I can't see her for 4 months at a time, not sure when that fact will hit home. Not now, though. Exams exams exams exams FoMP vector eigenvalue linear basis orthogonal matrix tensor quantum oscillators are all that are permeating my mind at this moment in time. I have no idea what I just typed. It's a load of Physics jargon in a random order to make you arts students think I really know what I'm on about.

I have a Twitter now. Joy of Joys.

I have just been visited by gossamer_tune and Kapil. It was entertaining. I am tired. Too much talking about playing pianos using teaspoons, or something.

Going to London next Thursday for White Mischief on Friday, which I will hopefully survive. Claire is helping me with an appropriate costume. She bought lace today (so she says, I could theorise that she actualluy bought me a corset), but we will see. I guess I won't be able to pull it off like The Correspondents guy.

Christ this post is boring.

Too much Physics. Tired. Going to bed. Goodnight.

i.e. cobweb_diamond , flossatronha and hearts_onparade crazy. Claire and I are going to Paris (!).

This has arisen because:

1. Claire found that flights to Paris 'departure lounge is a circus tent' Beauvais were £1 one way, plus £5 handling. Therefore return flights for both of us came to £24.
2. Claire has never been to Paris and I have been for about one day before deciding it was boring and demanding to go to Disneyland (I was 10, don't blame me)
3. Claire wanted to do something 'crazy' i.e. try to dispel the idea that our domestic living arrangement is actually not like that of a couple in their mid-thirties, who hold down stable jobs as accountants, and go on holiday with their parents to Hebridean Islands to drink whiskey.

Anyway, that is what is happening. I will not be in residence of the UK between the 18th and 21st of June, so if you need me (unlikely, but one never knows when Shirley will come in handy), you'll just need to cope.

P.S. I feel we are already failing in this plan's craziness, because we have already booked the flight and hostel i.e. this is actually a plan which has been properly thought out.

Right, LJ, you're gonna be updated. Hold on, wait a minute (checks to see when the last post was so that I don't repeat myself) Umm, right.

A week last Friday

It was Keren's birthday. And I did leave the car at home. And I did drink. As a matter if fact, within seconds of arriving at Nice 'N' Sleazy's (I was pleasantly surprised by this place, I thought it was sleazy in the kind of old man way, but no, it's really good.), Emma anddr_octavia insisted that I drink. Heavily. I have to admit that I had already had something to drink, because whilst I was waiting to get the train at Bearsden, I popped into The Inn and drank a JD & Coke. Alone. I did not realise that this is in fact characteristic of an alcoholic, I thought I was just passing the time. Anyway, I obeyed the order.

We went to ABC from the bar, meeting a very drunk Gordon Semple on the way, who embraced both wrongeyed_jesus and I quite forcefully. I chatted to him briefly about BLAIR BLASTING, and he then went to The Garage.... to.... do whatever it is they do there. Anyway, one of his collective refused to go anywhere near The Garage. RJ (I think, I have met him once before), said that going to the Garage (or Gay Rage as my 'hip and happening' sister calls it) with all your male friends is basically four hours of dancing badly in a circle and going "Oh look, she's hot, but oh she's backing away from me. What a whore!" It does raise the question as to why most douchey men lead with the crotch when dancing. Yes, you may not be much of a looker, but I can almost guarantee that your face looks way better than your genetalia do.

Anyway, ABC. I really enjoyed myself, I have to say. The last time I was in a club, believe it or not, was in freshers week, when we all went to Cab Vol. I should get out more, it would seem. That's probably not going to happen during my honours year, though, is it? Anyway, I continued to drink, completely ignoring the common case of drinking shots; i.e. they are normally taken with other people at least present. But oh no. I would just strut up to the bar alone (and I do mean strut) and order whatever took my fancy. This included raspberry vodka, vanilla vodka, and last but not least: Cointreau. Cointreau?! What was I thinking? It is very nice, though. I also decided on one occasion that I would jump down the three steps leading to the bar, landing on one foot. My ankle hurt for most of the following day. Anyway, Alex and I were staying at Claire's house, so we all bundled into a taxi, where Alex fell asleep on my shoulder.

A week past Saturday

The next day, I thought I was still drunk when I awoke, but I deemed myself sober by the time it came to drive the car. Claire wanted to drive, but for some reason, I was like "No, woman. Get in the back!" Well, not quite, but I think that's the impression she got. Anyway, the three of us  went to the West End to buy some.... Cheese. Alex departed, leaving us to buy more delicacies. Later that evening, it was time to celebrate WILLIAM BLAIR's 21st birthday. I agreed to transport people from his house to the restaurant, picking up Robbie Cranston on the way. I would take some, and JIM BLAIR would take the rest. But Jim was seemingly not prepared to actually take them the whole way there. In fact, he followed my car to Robbie's house, and dumped them there. Sigh. I believe this to be either a petrol saving initiative, or some form of indirect protest at the restaurant having foreign staff, or something to that effect. Anyway, some walked the remainder of the distance, and I took the rest in the car. The meal was very nice indeed, and the restaurant was definitely a classy affair. I should really buy a tie. In fact, it reminds me of my school leaver's dinner:

Mrs. Watters (my former English teacher): Oh, I like your tie, Iain.
Me: It's my Dad's.
gossamer_tune : Heh, There really is no need to mock Iain. He does it all by himself.
Mrs. Watters: True.

Anyway, after the meal, I had to pick up Claire, since she had agreed to come out. And we all met in Princes Square, to go to November. A bar / restaurant / club, where you can't talk, get a seat, hear any decent music (Lady Gaga, anyone?) or get a drink without selling your pancreas on Ebay beforehand. It was packed with people who really did not fit the kind of person we were:

• The stick thin, tangoed girl in 6 inch heels and mini dress, dancing whilst holding a cocktail.
• The Thai hookers. Or at least they looked it.
• The bald, muscular, tatooed men with a face that has probably seen a few fights i.e. drug dealers.
• The gentlemen who are cheating on their wives with one of the first two collectives.
• The classy doucebag.

Needless to say, we did not stay there long, and went to All Bar One, where they had free seats, cheaper drinks, better (and quieter) music, and above all, normal people. And we had a good time. Claire met a guy who was actually shorter than she was, and despite what I thought were previous tensions, Claire and Robbie got on very well. Robbie does play a role in this saga; Claire knew him through sailing, and I would not have known her had she decided not to jump on his back in the middle of Buchanan Street whilst wearing a blue leather coat when we were 15. Looking back on it now, she recalls that I looked terrified. Also, though I did not know it, the person accompanying her that day was actually Emma Hunter. Weird. We left kind of early, however, because the following morning, Claire and I were bound on a Ferry to Islay.

Last Sunday to Wednesday

I did spend most of Sunday either driving or on a ferry. I do love Caledonian MacBrayne. Their ferries are about as cutting edge as a sock, but on the plus side look like actual boats, unlike the huge fuck off Sea Cats that sail to Ireland. And it just feels right for going to a Hebridean Island. Upon arrival, we emptied the car, and were then told to get back in the car to go to the beach. I should mention that in all reality, this 'holiday' was nowhere near as awkward than I thought it was going to be. It was (dare I say it) fun. And Claire and I went round various distilleries trying whiskeys, since my father asked if I could bring some back. It seems that the Camerons, as with just about all foodstuffs, are connoisseurs of whiskey, asking me to "smell the peat in that", and "try this and tell me how smooth it is" (being almost 55% proof, I should think it made me smooth enough).

Thursday

Tchai Ovna with cobweb_diamond . I bought my own Yogi Yogi Tchai, so now I can make my own stuff here! Excellent.

Friday

1. Revision. Maybe. Kinda. I tried, that's all I'm saying.
2. CAKE! Kapil requested I make a cake for his Birthday (containing a naked Blair, but that's apparently a health and safety hazard for the amount of simultaneous orgasms), and I recall Claire saying that she would make a cake for Alex's birthday too. But she was stressing about her exams, so I took an impromptu decision to bake a Victoria Sponge (by far the most elaborate cake I have made yet, due to it's dual layering.
3. Alcohol! I then proceeded to knock back wine quickly. Don't ask me why, but I was certainly drunk by the time it came to leave the flat. I answered the main door intercom with "Hello, I'm holding a cake!", and also commenting that the jam was escaping from the tin I had put the cake in was in fact the cake having a period. Lovely. Anyway, I got the cake to Alex and Jamie's flat intact, where it was well received, I am glad to note, but slightly saddened by the fact that some people opted not to eat it and instead smear it over each other. Or so I was told. Anyway, I tried some, and I didn't even get food poisoning; therefore I win at cake.
4. After Jamie elbowed Claire in the face, we went home. Hector and Gavia stayed, and returned here to go to bed at 6 in the morning or something.

Saturday

The new beds arrived! So, once Claire and Gavia had left for Glasgow, Hector and I set about assembling them, whilst listening to Steely Dan and Kate Bush. And fuck me, it was complex for just a bed. Thankfully, I ordered 2 identical bed frames, so constructing the second one was far easier. My old bed will either be used as a bed for when we have guests over the summer, or I will hang it from the ceiling as an art installation (Hector's suggestion, would you guess?).

We then sat down to watch Star Wars Episide III (that is the one Star Wars film I have actually seen) as I have never seen it before: a chinese subtitle translation of the film translated back into English. And by God they got it hilariously wrong. Some vocabulary for you:

Subtitle says	Film says
Allah Gold	Anakin
Ratio Tile	Obi Wan Kenobi
Hopeless Situation Warrior	Jedi
Presbytarian Church	Jedi Council
the plum of	Padme

And I haven't even got to the bit that you all know: "DO NOT WANT!" for James Earl Jones yelling "NOOOOOOOO!"

And the name of this film? 'Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith' apparently translates to 'Star War: The Backstroke of the West'

Hector and I both nearly died from watching the entirety of the film, it was that funny. And it's worthwhile watching all the way through, because it just doesn't stop being funny. The only time you aren't laughing is when there is no dialogue, which is when you realise that all the fight scenes are actually really boring.

Oh, and the Chinese now think that Chancellor Palpatine says to Anakin Skywalker at one point in the film:

"You make out well."

Oh dear. Goodnight.

P.S. Just in case the filthy minded amongst you were wondering, I was referring to the length of the post in the title.

I am going to keep this brief since I am tired, and I have a busy day tomorrow.

1. Take a look at what I'm listening to. I used to listen to this as a guilty pleasure, until I found that Hector actually loves it and apparently played it to death in first year - interspersed with Zappa, Beefheart, Ligeti and Stockhausen, of course. So I am no longer ashamed of liking this song. Though I don't think I'd try to sing along - "Nigga, you ain't no G" being one of the lyrics.

2. I have ordered myself a double bed! This actually puts me on equal levels as my 2 flatmates, who have had the space to spread about and not fall out the bed. Furthermore, because my current single bed has been with me since I was about 10 or so, and has mesh instead of actual slats underneath the mattress, making it softer than Copper's fir,  it is predicted I would get back problems if I slept in it any longer. Furthermore, sweetmintmojo plus guest will be staying there over the summer.

3. I still have not done the household tasks set for me by wrongeyed_jesus last Saturday.

4. I am going back to Glasgow tomorrow for a series of events:

• It is Keren's Birthday tomorrow. So I'm going out. In Glasgow. And I'm going to drink alcohol! And not drive like the last time!
• William Blair was 21 on Tuesday. And there is a night out on Saturday. I need to drive that night, so I can't drink to his good health; but Kapil can..... Anyway, it should be a night BLAIR BLASTING. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)
• The main event: Claire and I are going to Islay to the new house which her parents bought. This sounds romantic, but infact the real reason as to why I am there is that I am required to move furniture into the place. Did I mention that her parents are going to be there too? Sorry, I must have missed that minor detail.

5. My work is going terribly. I should probably go on drugs or something. And by that I mean (considering that I only discovered the joys of caffiene in tea in the morning about a month ago): Coffee. Then I'll move onto the hard stuff: Pro Plus. I am entertained by the thought of me snorting it in order to look bad ass. You see, even I laugh at myself. My dog is more bad ass than me, and he doesn't even urinate inside the house or hump things anymore!

Ok, so today was not exactly what one would call productive. I wake up, shower, have breakfast. This, of course, is occurring 2 hours later than it would be if I was in term time, but alas there are no 9am lectures to attend. Therefore there isn't really the need to get up.

But anyway, I was going to meet gossamer_tune for lunch to give him his glasses back and to view his new acquisition: Logic. This has left his Macbook with approximately 8GB of space left in it, so that's healthy, especially for an art student who might, say, want to store graphics or something. But anyway, it is very impressive (if confusing). I don't think I'm going to shell out for such a thing just yet; I need to justify that I'm professional enough to use such a thing. In the meantime, I'm looking at freeware alternatives, like renoise, and interestingly Pure Data, which I have downloaded, but haven't got a clue where to begin. Either way, it's a programming language, like Java (light of my life, Java is).

On another note, I think there needs to be a massive overhaul of the amount of pish in my iTunes. I decided to delete Peter Gabriel from my Last.fm library (cheating, I know), just so that I could see something other than his tracks on my top ten most played songs. It was.... refreshing. But put my library on shuffle, and you will receive a vast array of shite over substance. Like Rod Stewart's swing album, and Foreigner. There's a pile of Deep Purple which I have no intension of listening to...

Umm, right. For the first time ever it would seem, I have just had a mind blank. I have nothing to say to you,  LJ. (makes a change) Hmm. Interesting. I should probably go to bed. Yes. Bed. Then revision. Yes, revision.

Well, after I handed in my last pre-honours lab report last Thursday, I got on the KB to Central Area shuttle bus to seedr_octavia , in order to discuss the recording of Kapil's band. This is, I suppose, the long awaited reunion of Kapil and I musically, since the end of the first semester of 1st year, when we went to a practice studio and argued about his guitar tone. Stephen Naismith was also present, and I believe he may have distanced himself from us for quite some time after that incident. Anyway, afterwrongeyed_jesus had reviewed them for this website she's currently writing for, the website pretty much demanded that there be a MySpace with a couple of recordings on it. Which is when I remembered that I still have a pass for the university recording studio, and offered to do it for them. I knew that I was immediately putting myself into unchartered territory, since I had only previously used that studio to edit pieces in Pro Tools. Hence why I was going to Alex's in the first place, because he does know such things, but is be in Croatia with flossatronha  this week. Anyway, I have now "successfully" recorded keyboards, vocals, drums and bass; leaving the most challenging part until the end: Kapil's guitar. Not that we didn't try it; we had several takes which start well, then he makes the most miniscule mistake and insists on starting again. But then Pro Tools crashed, and we had to start over. So we shall reconvene and try again this coming Friday.

On the evening of this meeting there was a party being held by Robin, Gordon and Cammie in thier flat entitled "First there was number ONE. Now there's NUMBER WANG." Fitting indeed. Claire was feeling tired, so I walked her home, but then came back to the party, where I had already had some wine and a couple of tequila shots, and then proceeded to have a can of Tennents (there are photographs to document this 'event' - so unusual is my persuasion towards beer), and then take swigs of vodka out of a bottle Gordon was passing around. So, quite a mix makes for more drunkenness, it would appear. This would be proven when I was walking home along Strathearn Road, and I felt I wasn't quite recognising the street; it looked different. Furthermore, when I arrived back, I was quizzed by Claire:

"So how was the party?"
"I love you too, Claire."

Ahem. Anyway, I personally believe that my alcohol consumption was somewhat dwarfed by Hector's intake, as proven by his religious rant telling us all to stop worshipping God and start worshipping Will Blair:

(In low, deep south of the US accent) "We don't need no God, because who do we have people?! We have Will Blair! Give me an AMEN people! And we ain't gonna sing no hymns no more either. What are we gonna do instead? We're gonna sing Hanson. Can someone give me an MMM BOP?!"

We stood there listening in amazement, frankly, at this feat of..... talking. But the key here is that it makes sense, unlike my now well-known ability to word vomit. Anyway, when it came to leaving, I tried to persuade him to come home (even trying with force - I tried, that's all I'm saying), but he hid behind a wall and yelled:

"Fuck off, your father wears tweed!"

Before he ran off into the Meadows. I was assured that he would be alright, so I went back home. He returned to the flat the following day at 5pm, after staying with dr_octavia , who was in a similar state as Hector, but opted to just hug everyone as opposed to yelling Hell and damnation on those who didn't worship Will Blair.

On Friday, to no surprise, I did have a small hangover in the form of a headache for most of the day. It wasn't splitting or anything like that - it was just not great. In the evening I went with Robin and Hector to see Clint Eastwood in his final role as an actor; playing an old, grumpy, racist man in Gran Torino. It really should be called MAN Torino, though, because it is so much man it makes Hugh Jackman look like as masculine as a female hamster. (We saw the trailer for Wolverine. I think he's on steroids.)

But Gran Torino goes like this. Bad Ass Clint doesn't like the fact that all his neighbours are 'chinks', especially after the kid next door tries to steal his car (a 1972 Ford Gran Torino). But to repay his mistake, the kid does jobs for Bad Ass. Then he finds out that somg gang of 'chinks' (or 'gooks' - it makes no difference) are trying to make said kid join them. But when the gang don't go away, Bad Ass goes out to kick some ass. In reality, it also has a very good story line, and really is a great film from any perspective, but it also is an old guy kicking ass, being racist, and sitting on his porch with his rifle after a hard day's DIY.

On Saturday, it was yet another one of Alex's parties. We are on to 9 now, and I have to admit that my consumption that night had nothing to do with the quantities: it was the speed at which consumption occurred. And therefore I have to admit that I have no recollection of some events me holding Ben to the wall, and him picking me up afterwards. I only knew they happened, because I was in the photographs. Though I do distinctly remember being duct taped up by Hector, and being freed by Keren's friend Mark,THAT INCIDENT and being very paranoid, thinking I had offended everyone. (In fact that reminds me, due to the heavy alcohol intake of the previous days, Robin commented that Hector and Alex were certainly more 'Withnail & Withnail' than the conventional pairing, but I believe that I took on the role of 'I' that evening, because of my worrying.)

Yesterday, I returned to Glasgow, and many of us participated in the Pub Quiz (including Willian Blair, Robin, Claire, Kapil, and special guest Hector). We came 4th, namely thanks to Robin's insane ability to identify countries by their outlines. But Hector came up with the best answer in response to "Which Blue Peter pet has a statue of it in the Blue Peter garden" - to which he answered "Anthea Turner". Anyway, a good night out, it must be said. Hector stayed here, on our GMTV sized sofa, but despite his considerable skill in sleeping throug just about everything, he couldn't stay in slumber at half seven this morning, since he had a huge amount of natural light coming through, ghastly pop blasting out of Lesley's room, and Copper jumping on him. I had to get up too, since my Dad managed to miscalculate the the time he would have to leave the house in order to get the girls to school (he was on duty since my Mother was away overnight), so I woud therefore have to take the job on. Not wanting to leave Hector in the house alone, he came with me, which basically put us in the city centre at 9 am. So we wandered about the place, going to the Gallery of Modern Art (which I haven't been in for 10 years), and going to music shops. I bought Fever Ray's album - I have decided that I will only illegally download material if I deem the artist in question to have enough money already and won't miss the price of the album I'm stealing off them (Coldplay, for example), and I will legitimately buy everything else, because.... well, they are trying to make a living off it. I've just downloaded an Aereogramme EP, which has a cover of Thriller on it. One of my favourite artists covering one of my favourite songs by another one of my favourite artists?! This HAS to be good.

This evening though, Claire, Hector and I were going to see David Byrne. And he didn't disappoint. Despite the fact that his recent release with Brian Eno was a bit patchy to say the least; some of the tracks were just awful, he was absolutely incredible. He and his entire band were dressed in white from head to toe, he had 3 dancers, who would dance around him (one of them even jumped OVER him during a song), and just before the end, the lot of them (band, dancers and and Byrne) came on stage in tutus to sing 'Burning Down The House'. Take that Tom Jones. And it was very danceable - I broke my "No, I will remain still at concerts rule" - namely because Claire was next to me. We returned back to Claire's house very happy, and then Claire decided it was time to wax off my monobrow into two separate entities (I didn't object). I think it could take some getting used to though.

Therefore I would have to go home to go and get it , but there is no point in doing that, because the last ever FoMP workshop is at 2pm. Furthermore, I just had the last DEaD lecture! I am happy. Anyway, because all the work I have to do is in the flat, I have nothing to do. Therefore, despite there has already been one post today, it's LJ time.

Thursday

I went to see Kapil's band, Johhny Vulgur & The Additional Pylons at Teviot Underground - it was a battle of the Bands. I have to say for all their 4 gigs or whatever, they are doing quite well. Saying that, there are criticisms, namely along the lines of "move the keyboard, I can't see the drummer", and the age old lack of stage presence problem. Without being nasty, frontman Chris currently lacks confidence, and as a result, I got the impression the frontman was in fact his keyboard. He could probably move about a bit more too. Saying that, playing was immaculate throughout, and I was very impressed with the use of the electronic drum kit - it makes a nice change to conventional drums. And of course the flute, which makes for a nice lead instrument when used correctly. In fact, Chris should stand and dress like this when he plays the flute - makes for at least "What the fuck is he doing standing on one leg whilst dressed as a 16th century court jester?" comments. There is no such thing as negative press, after all. I mean, if you're the flute player in a rock band, you have to pay some form of tribute to Jethro Tull.

Friday

I was doing work, but in the mean time I have dusted off my last.fm account and have decided to keep it on in order to track everything I'm listening to. There is a very concerning amount of Peter Gabriel according to their bar charts, so I'm going to try and balance that out a bit with other stuff. As you can see, there is a large amount of commercial pop at the minute, with a strong infusion of the 1980s. So I don't know what's worse - that or Peter Gabriel.

Saturday

I went home for Mother's day, which was a bad move in terms of cousework, but always interesting to see just how my family hold it together. My mother is trying to grow potatoes, and has bought herself a breadmaker, and there are just a couple of issues with the 'rebel'.

Lesley seems to be actively trying to piss us all off, what with her temper, general offensive nature, designer wardrobe and more fake tan than I thought was physically possible to put on her face. I looked today at a photo from about a year and a half ago, and she looks at least far more natural, I have to say. But it's not as if she is shying away from a stereotype here - her Facebook profile actually says that she is a "Preppy whore in 6th year at TGA". Good god. I'm wondering if I should intervene. She may thank me in later years....

Anyway, in the evening, I went for a drink with the one and only William Blair (and Robbie, but Will Blair!), just to catch up and what not. The man is 21 on the 7th of April. And he is having a pub crawl on the 11th, I believe, in order to celebrate this occasion. Just to broadcast that out if anyone wants to come.

Sunday

For Mother's day, making mu Mum breakfast in bed prove impossible, since she got out of bed before I did. But I did give her a card. I also visited my aunt in the Southern General hospital, who had been in a car accident a couple of weeks ago, and she is being treated for broken ribs and spinal injuries among a couple of other things, which does mean she has to keep practically horizontal the whole time. But she is in good spirits, so I'm glad.  I was intending on going through sooner, but preoccupation happens quickly at university. Where does the time go?

So I went home over the weekend, for the first time in ten weeks. As I'm sure I have bemoaned to quite a few of you, my sister was going to a party over the weekend, and wanted to obtain a bottle of vodka from me. Whilst wanting to be responsible by not giving her a copious amount of alcohol, I also didn't want to disappoint, so my solution to this problem was this:



Oh yes. I got great satisfaction from her reaction to my miniature of vodka. She stipulated she wanted a bottle of vodka, and look, she actually got one. It's better than fuck all.

Iain: 1
Lesley: 0

Ha. Though the tables may just turn when she passes her driving test before I did (took me 5 attempts).

So my Physics lecturer this morning used the best expression I have ever heard for substituting in values and calculating the answer to a problem:

"So with this equation we just plug and chug and we get the the answer of (numerical answer I can't remember)"

Apparently tomorrow, he is also going to be doing the entire lecture with a Red Nose on.

Furthermore, Hector and I have decided "Yes, we will go to see Michael Jackson. And we are not ashamed!" I am sure we are not the only people to think this, in fact does anyone else want to come with us? No? That doesn't surprise me. Hell, at least I think we will have more credibility than cobweb_diamond , flossatronha , and hearts_onparade going to see Britney Spears. The King of Pop could kick her ass, because he is Bad, as documented by his 1987 album of the same name.

P.S. Apologies for:

1. Referencing Bo! Selecta in the title.
2. Making a very bad physics joke at the same time.

The whole FoMP lecture burst out laughing at the mention of the semi-latus-rectum today. It it the term described for the vertical distance from the centre of an orbit to the edge of the orbit.


Saying that, at least we haven't spent our spare time making papier mache penises like sweetmintmojo  across the pond. They cut out sleep to do that?!  Anyway, I have currently been losing sleep on yet another lab report due tomorrow, and I am clearly procrastinating since I'm posting to LJ, so without further ado, I now have to get out some Samuel L Jackson 'quotes', like I did last time, and adapt them a bit:

"I've had it with this motherfucking diffraction grating in this motherfucking hydrogen spectrometer!"

"No emission spectra on my face!"

God, where did my sense of humour go?




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