Three square meals

Its Sunday night and I'm recovering from the massive vegan Sunday roast my friend Jess cooks us every week (with Linda Mc'Cartney sausages, which I find creepy, and amazing crumble with soy cream), and from the passion which the many hats Stephen Fry manages to wear in his travels across America (BBC 1 @ 8:30, woot!) seems to inspire in us.

Its gross and rainy here, the air looks clear but if you step into it its like taking a really cold and unfortunate shower, and it now gets dark by 4:30pm, which means I keep accidentally eating dinner at five o'clock and getting sleepy. I now have four quilts on my bed and I'm preparing for constant hibernation.

Its been a good weekend, Anna B and I went to some amazing Danish documentaries being screened at Shunt on Friday night- they turned one of the old railway tunnels into a whole plane carriage with reclining aeroplane seats and air hostesses and you listened to the sound through hi-tech head sets. Then yesterday my housemate Sam and I went to Cambridge for his best friends housewarming party. Nobody told me it was fancy dress, and everyone else had made a massive effort, so I had to whip something up out of paper and sticky tape. It was musical themed, hence all the photos of Chicago-style flappers, and I ended up as a bit of a half-hearted last minute Mary Poppins. Everyone at the party was scarily brainy, doing PHD's at Cambridge in cancer research, but I did manage to bond with one of the hosts who has just got a job working at the local sewerage plant wading through pooh all day.

Night of many wigs

Guy Fawkes night!

Guy Fawkes night is a huge deal here, young Londoners have been blowing off unnecessary body parts for weeks now, and the streets are full of smoke and the constant wail of ambulances and police sirens. I made mulled wine and go ridiculously over-excited on the actual day, but two of my housemates got sick so we didn't make it to any of the massive bonfires around town where they actually burn lifesized effigies of the pope. One day...
Instead we bought about six kilos of explosives from our nearest supermarket and blew massive holes in the lawn of the local childrens playground. It was rad, the whole skyline of London was erupting and the parks were full of cheering drunken people who were too cheap to buy their own fireworks but sure got a kick out of ours. This is my housemate Tom about to light one of the little baby rockets we got. These were a bit pathetic, but we also had ones the size of four bricks which could have blown up a car. I can't wait til next year.

Three exciting things

1. I met Kenneth Anger! Actually, that's an exaggeration, I touched his shoe. But it was a beautiful moment. And then he spilled his beer on me, so I am never showering again. I went to a secret screening of his new films (blurgh), in the old railway tunnels under London Bridge- it was all pitch dark and scary and filled with candles and smoke machines. I didn't even know he was still making films- he's had so much plastic surgery he looked about forty.
2.I have family! I spent the weekend in Sheffield being spoilt rotten with big family dinners and living it up in a swanky apartment with all my cousins, am still recovering from the sheer quantity of food we managed to consume.
3. I'm going to set fire to things! Tomorrow is my first ever Guy Fawkes night, so my housemates and I are stocking up on mulled wine and fireworks (you can buy them at the local supermarket, ridiculous country).

So thats three exciting things in what is otherwise a desert of boredom..... This week is 'Reading Week' so I have no classes but masses of essays to write and I've turned into a revolting library slug. Joyous.

Good looks run in the family