
Hi popkids.  All quiet on the western front apart from having to write an
exhibition review to hand in as an essay for part of my preliminary exam 
assessment.  And I've got to write it all tonight.  Eek!  Why do I do these
things to myself?

Anyway, wot's all this nonsense about "panties"?  KNICKERS!  Or possibly just
plain old PANTS.  Or "trolleys" is quite good.  Anyway, I have been feverishly
buying black lacy underwear just so I can keep up with the hidden sartorial
excesses of all you precious little kittens.  But where will I find a pair of
tartan boxers?  And aren't they a bit uncomfy for girls, what with the 
redundant fly and all?  Questions, questions...  

The Wee Git wrote:

> Tomorrow morning I've got to get up at
> 6am to go to a tournament at some second-rate university in the middle of
> England - Oxford I think the place is called. 

Right, you little (big) sod, there's no need to be nasty, even if you do have
an almighty inferiority complex about being a tab.  We Oxonians do our best
to make you feel comfy with luxuries you may not be used to.  Like...walls,
clothes, that sort of thing.  Tee hee.

Whoever said that we Brits are missing out on Buffy, HAH!  We're not any more:
they've started showing it.  Yay!  However, I won't get to see most of the
series until I go home at Easter, as I really can't be arsed to fight over the
TV control in the common room.  So my mum's taping it for me (she likes it too)
because she is an angel.

I'm sure you'll be pleased to learn that I have more or less mastered the
tremendously difficult chord F#min (I think.  It may just be plain old F#), 
and can now annoy my bedroom walls with the lilting strains of The Boy Done 
Wrong Again.  Tiptop, and indeed ripsnorting stuff, as St. John Peel might
very well say in such a situation.

I find bits of The Gate floating around in my mind for _days_ after I've 
listened to TIJAMRS (to rhyme with pyjamas, someome's probably done that one
already, sorry), despite it being the song on the EP that I listen to with
the least assiduousness.  Funny eh?  

Rightyho, I'll just be off to soak some muslin in wax or something else
equally impenetrably arty.  Toodlepip.

  Liz :x


On my feet: daft Miss Selfridge trainer-sandal hybrid things, despite it being
rather too nippy out for such frivolous footwear.
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