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.