It's a well-established fact that after some time in a relationship, you turn into a slob. What worries me is that after less than two months, I'm sitting here with no make-up, wet hair and a towel around my shoulders. This is marginally better than how I looked when I got out of bed about an hour ago, with hair that hadn't been washed in three days, but it's still not exactly glamorous.
I'm in Essex now, writing this and talking to Amy on MSN with one of the Star Wars films on in the background and Rikki's arm around me. It's pretty peaceful.
The rest of yesterday didn't go too badly. My lecturer's voice lasted until the end of the day, for a start.
Seeing as I had to rush off to Charing Cross to meet my mother, I didn't have time to wait for Simon to cook the risotto he was making for lunch; instead, he made me some plum-glazed chicken with peas and noodles. I supplemented this with a cookie and a Snog (they've now introduced reward cards that give you a free Snog after buying ten. Yay!).
The practical that afternoon was fine- looking at worms is usually quite amusing, especially when you have to poke them with a paintbrush to make them move- but the test afterwards was nigh-on impossible. I've prepared myself for the very real possibility of failure.
After that, I got hold of a black coat and an American Apparel jacket for Rikki at the clothes-swapping thing, spent a few hours in the union bar drinking water, and took the train to get here.
So, yeah. That's about it so far.
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