Me and my friend are leaving the Shire on Monday to go to London, to look at some really deep, cool paintings and to see dead Bentham and trains and Premier Inn and swashbuckling and philosophy and food and fun.
I’m having a sneaky drink because it’ll make writing these essays considerably less painful and I want to see how philosophical I become about a pronoun…
DON’T QUESTION MY LOGIC.
Twitter stats ft. Maximo Park and Eiffel Tower
I can feel all the multiples of 5s stifling my creativity.
Nearly Christmas, nearly eighteen; I love this time of year.
… Excluding the fact that my UCAS Track screen still may as well have tumbleweed rolling across it and I have a million essays to do. Death by anticipation and humanities.
Last night was indescribably wonderful.
And now I’m watching A Bug’s Life.
Oh, life is sweet.
I’m currently in Bristol, on an Apple iMac. Swish.
I did a two hour walking tour of the University yesterday and I think I’ve fallen in love with it even more. The atmosphere here is really lovely. Woo, scary-future-UCAS decisions.
Plus, I walked so far that I surely now must have the body of Adonis. Life is good.
eighteen.
