Memoirs of a nutter
Things have been difficult for me at St. Ignatius this week. Following the debacle with Charlie (the llama, whom we eventually found, drunk, dancing on the bar in the Zodiac), I have had to maintain a low profile in college. Fortunately, the halls at college are in the form of flats, and so I can maintain at least some small degree of autonomy. Yet, being at home is not all good news, and I was rather shocked last Thursday when, at 3am (the only time it is safe to risk leaving my bedroom), I met a mouse. It was quite a nice mouse, with rather striking ears, but it was, nevertheless, a mouse. Hardly an ideal lodger for a kitchen. It declined my offer of tea, and instead scampered off to the strains of "a little mouse with clogs on..." Every mouse should have a good theme song.
Yet more important than my sufferings this week must, of course, be Valentine's day. If you're reading this, you probably haven't had the most romantic of days. Sorry. One thing about writing this is that people want to be mentioned, which is obviously an abuse of power. Yet, what is power for if not to be abused? So, any of you poor beings out there who need to be loved, write to me (c/o OxStu Towers). I'd love to know that more than two people read this, and maybe, just maybe, your new-found fame will attract the person of your dreams. Oh, and in anticipation of enormous response, I have only one thing to say. Bribery may be wrong, but chocolate can only ever be a good thing.
(Rebecca Smith loves her fish very much indeed.Who needs a valentine when you've got a fish?)
14th Feb 2002