often seen in the street without a hat

Last night I dreamt that the Antarctica people had emailed me (in real life no news) and said that they would shortlist me on the proviso that I could show them some of my poetry that I'd apparently talked about in my application form. I tried to get away with giving them a short story I'd written when I was thirteen, but that wasn't recent enough.

Also last night I used hair removal cream on my bikini line (as I found some when I was going through a box to see what to pack and what to throw/donate and thought "ooh, I'll be doing some swimming when I'm back in Southampton, I could use this to get rid of what someone on Mumsnet amused me by calling "knicker spiders""), got slightly too enthusiastic and had to sleep with a hefty helping of savlon covering my anus as it was rather sore.

I got stuck in another dress today. This time it was in Gap. The zip was down the back, and when I was taking it off it wedged a bit halfway down, and then the teeth underneath separated, trapping me. There were no assistants in the changing room, and although I pressed my button especially for assistance, no-one came. After about five minutes loitering I had to go onto the shop floor to the till and tell the assistant (and her queue) that I was stuck in a dress and needed help. She and her managed eventually freed me. I didn't buy the dress (though it was lovely).

I just got back from an Indian head massage taster. It was lovely. When I am massaged, especially at first, I get a very localised tingle at the top of my left buttock. It's not a bad feeling, but it is quite surprising. I think I may have more massages in the future. Work has therapy rooms that masseuses (and others) can rent, so I could do it in my lunchbreak. Or more sensibly, right after work, so I don't fall asleep in the afternoon.

My flat is lovely but rather cold. I am trying to get quotes for double glazing, so I know what to save up for. Although some places do interest free credit, which could be very helpful. Unfortunately, they either want me to ring them, or they want to ring me, neither of which I like very much.

...oh. The cfp I was trying to write an article for's deadline was the 15th March, not April. Oh well. At least now I can just watch TV without feeling guilty for it.

"Young person"'s railcard successfully renewed. I must remember to link it to my oyster card. I must find my oyster card - last time I was in London I had to buy an emergency spare. I think I dreamt that I found it the other night, either that or I did find it and now can't remember where. It would be useful to remember even if it was a dream, then I can at least check. Once I dreamt I found something in the pocket of a coat I don't even own, that was singularly disappointing.

Another thing I must remember to do is find my travel alarm clock. I bought it to go to on my African jaunt earlier this year, then couldn't work out how to set it and dismissed it as useless. I don't think it went off once when I wanted it to on holiday. When I unpacked I put it somewhere I can't remember, and now once a week or so (I think, the last time was this morning) it goes off at about 4am, for a short enough period that it jolts me awake, then once I've worked out what it is I try to locate the noise, then it stops and I go back to sleep. I must make a concerted effort to work out where it is before next week.

Things that are taking more time than I would like: my jobseeker's allowance claim ("oh, you'll not be hearing anything until at least the end of the week, I mean you only gave us the proof last week"); my transfer from my ISA to my current account; the payment of my expenses claim from December; the change of status on the FastStream site so that I can claim my train ticket and hotel room back. Because I have £30 left of my overdraft and it is annoying to know that I very much have the money (even excluding the dole the rest will clear my overdraft and leave me £300 in credit (though then I have to pay my writing up fees)) but cannot do anything with it. Lest you expend too much sympathy for me, all this really means in practical terms is that I have the added strain of having to remember the pin for my credit card, and at the absolute worst ask my parents to lend me some money until my transfer makes it, but STILL. HOW I SUFFER.

I went past a mirror earlier today and really liked how my face was looking. Also I am wearing She-Ra pants and raspberry pink socks. I sent off another revised chapter to my supervisors, and ANY MOMENT NOW I'm going to start work on the next. Two full chapters and a half-length conclusion left to revise and then I'll submit. My applications saying "will shortly complete" are starting to feel less of an outrageous lie.

I just got wotsit dust in a small cut on my back. Ow.

since i got here i have driven my parents' car into the garage door and also swallowed my tongue stud. Not the ball, the whole thing.

Just how am I doing with my work recently?

Beginner: 9 seconds
Intermediate: 37 seconds
Expert: 143 seconds

(Expert is about 50 seconds off my previous personal best of around two years ago, which is when I last went through a mine-sweeping phase, but I am currently somewhat hindered by only using my laptop touchpad, which has developed a rather dodgy left-click. I feel that getting out my usb mouse would be a step too far, so it will probably have to stay at this unsatisfactory level for a while.)


I really don't understand why supporting statements don't write themselves.

I was reading again as I usually do before the film starts, and I was tapped on the shoulder. Wheeling round somewhat dazed, I was confronted with not only my supervisor, but another rather scary person from the department. Erk. I tried to look intelligent, interesting and alert, but suspect that this is the kind of thing that's never really successful when you're trying it deliberately. Then we had to chat briefly, and it was that terribly awkward thing of not knowing if it was meant to continue until the film started, or if there would be a natural break, or should I just break off mid-sentence and resume reading. In the end I carried it on a little bit too long and had to return to my book rather flustered.

As they were right behind me, I was very consious of my behaviour. I don't think I'm generally a bad cinema-goer, but I was worried that I might develop awful tics and start waving my hands in the air, talking loudly to the person next to me or singing along. I managed to control myself, but drinking from my water bottle posed a problem, as I suddenly felt I should do it unobtrusively, and forgot how to drink properly and ended up slightly spraying water from the bottle top over myself and, I think, the person next to me. Only a little bit, but I fancy that the droplets caught the light of the projector in an almost magical manner.

( Anyway, the film. )

Today I have mostly been watching Time Trumpet, which is just outstanding. Even if it didn't have Stewart Lee it would still be excellent, but the fact that he is there is very lovely indeed. He's just so him. I particularly like the Dragons' Den clips, though mstly I don't get them because I don't watch it. There was one bit where an entrepreneur told Rachel Elnaugh to stop talking because he was speaking to the men.

When not watching this, I locked myself out of the house with a large amount of shopping, with a large amount of meat that needed the frisge quite desperately. Since this was the middle of the day, I walked over to alicamel's nursery to ask for her key. First though, I had to wait until the taxi driver drove off so he didn't know that I couldn't get in the front door. I don't know why this was important, but he frustrated me by sitting and fiddling with his meter, so I pretended that I had just that second received a scintillating text that required my instant and dedicated attention until he finally went. Then I put all my shopping in the shed (and I've just remembered I left the washing up liquid on a shelf), locked it so that no-one would steal my steal of a bargain of a pork joint, and walked off to find Alice. It was in a bit of Lancaster I had never been to before, which is very pretty. I found it thanks to a kind man's directions, and then realised that it probably wasn't a good idea to just stroll in, as they tend to discourage that sort of access in childcare. I was ostentatiously tentative, so that they would see I wasn't trying anything, and found someone in an office.

I have skinned palms and a slight limp because the corridor back to my office was deserted so I decided to try a cartwheel, misjudged the angle and crashed into the wall. This has not remotely dented my belief that I am a gymnast manque. I was always better at round-offs anyway.

My last gymnastic injury was when I was waiting for a meeting and did a handstand against the wall, but apparently while my body is far ampler than it was when I last handstood, my arms are inexplicably no stronger in compensation, and so they gave way almost immediately and I crashed down, bearing that ampler weight on my head. It was a concrete floor. Ow.

The time beore that was when I was about 7 or 8, and watched some competition on TV. Then I decided I could very probably do a somersault in the air and dived head first off the dining chair I was standing on. At least there was a carpet involved in that one.

I am getting lots of emails about the strike action ballot and the nefarious nature of universities. It's very exciting. In a low-level, snippy email kind of way.

1) Ow. Thank goodness for nurofen.

2) Sorry about the comments.

3) At least I managed to be sick entirely in the bin. Not looking forward to cleaning that up.