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Feb. 3rd, 2007 11:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolWell, I'm back in St Andrews. The journey was... interesting, including lots of people desperately offering my cough sweets or complimenting me on my flowers. I tell you now, though, coughing like you have TB is the way forward for a nice empty train carriage.
I'm weirdly awake. I'm not sure why, considering that I've spent the last week sleeping like it was about to go out of fashion, or perhaps that explains it. Maybe I'm getting healthy!!! Oh well, I can hope. The house is empty at the moment, which is sad. Everyone is out at Clive's 21st. What with getting through the door at 11pm, I am fairly obviously not.
My mother rang on the way up. "Colleen, where are you?"
"A train," I said pathetically. Then I coughed.
"What's wrong?"
I explained. Jesus. I really should get ill like this when I'm at home. She told me off for not phoning her to tell her, then told Simon off vicariously, then said I had to go back to doctor's for a check-up and come home at the weekend if I couldn't handle this week of lectures. I'm not sure if I can. The train journey nearly killed me, and it's only painkillers that's keeping back the feeling of having static in my head. It's very, very cold in Scotland and I'm feeling pathetic. Waaah. Anyway. My mum decided that I have clearly not been eating properly. Given all I've managed in the last week is a bit of toast and the very odd main meal in the evening, this does without saying. Still, nice to know she's re-developing her parenting skills.
So. Erm. It might be worth recording Things I Did In Cambridge Before I Got Ill. These were quite fun things, actually, as I was spoilt rotten. I was taken on an exciting date, which is always good fun, as we always collectively eat too much and then complain about it in a wine-filled haze. I like being with someone who doesn't mind that I generally inhale food. Sunday night I was beginning o feel distinctly shite, but I still went to Formal Hall and ate too much. I like imposing on other university's silly traditions.
And it wasn't all bad, even when I was ill. Simon developed a fairly wonderful tendancy THAT I THINK YOU ALL SHOULD SHARE and bought me ice cream because I asked for it on one day to try and make the pain in my throat go away. We watched lots of Black Books, and silly old Doctor Who episodes. I also read Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep? which I am telling LJ simply so I can finally say I've read it and stop being a BIG LIAR about the whole thing.
(I've read a lot of Philip K. Dick, mostly old editions that sold for 10p that my Dads refused to get rid of for years and years. I have, however, never read that one. I have ranted about it in my GCSE music exam, because I always knew the plot of the thing, and was confused as to why we got a question about the music from Blade Runner. The exam told us that 'the film is about Time Agents...' which I knew was a lie at even the age of 15. So instead of answering the question, I corrected the question. Quite angrily.
Needless to say, I failed that exam quite badly.)
It's always a bit crap on the day I come back from Cambridge or Simon leaves. Sorry. I know I'm being a wee bit emo, and that this post makes about as much sense as Sienna Miller's outfits. (I have also read a lot of papers this week.) I should go to bed. Tomorrow is my last lie in for a week. Alas. Etc.
I'm weirdly awake. I'm not sure why, considering that I've spent the last week sleeping like it was about to go out of fashion, or perhaps that explains it. Maybe I'm getting healthy!!! Oh well, I can hope. The house is empty at the moment, which is sad. Everyone is out at Clive's 21st. What with getting through the door at 11pm, I am fairly obviously not.
My mother rang on the way up. "Colleen, where are you?"
"A train," I said pathetically. Then I coughed.
"What's wrong?"
I explained. Jesus. I really should get ill like this when I'm at home. She told me off for not phoning her to tell her, then told Simon off vicariously, then said I had to go back to doctor's for a check-up and come home at the weekend if I couldn't handle this week of lectures. I'm not sure if I can. The train journey nearly killed me, and it's only painkillers that's keeping back the feeling of having static in my head. It's very, very cold in Scotland and I'm feeling pathetic. Waaah. Anyway. My mum decided that I have clearly not been eating properly. Given all I've managed in the last week is a bit of toast and the very odd main meal in the evening, this does without saying. Still, nice to know she's re-developing her parenting skills.
So. Erm. It might be worth recording Things I Did In Cambridge Before I Got Ill. These were quite fun things, actually, as I was spoilt rotten. I was taken on an exciting date, which is always good fun, as we always collectively eat too much and then complain about it in a wine-filled haze. I like being with someone who doesn't mind that I generally inhale food. Sunday night I was beginning o feel distinctly shite, but I still went to Formal Hall and ate too much. I like imposing on other university's silly traditions.
And it wasn't all bad, even when I was ill. Simon developed a fairly wonderful tendancy THAT I THINK YOU ALL SHOULD SHARE and bought me ice cream because I asked for it on one day to try and make the pain in my throat go away. We watched lots of Black Books, and silly old Doctor Who episodes. I also read Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep? which I am telling LJ simply so I can finally say I've read it and stop being a BIG LIAR about the whole thing.
(I've read a lot of Philip K. Dick, mostly old editions that sold for 10p that my Dads refused to get rid of for years and years. I have, however, never read that one. I have ranted about it in my GCSE music exam, because I always knew the plot of the thing, and was confused as to why we got a question about the music from Blade Runner. The exam told us that 'the film is about Time Agents...' which I knew was a lie at even the age of 15. So instead of answering the question, I corrected the question. Quite angrily.
Needless to say, I failed that exam quite badly.)
It's always a bit crap on the day I come back from Cambridge or Simon leaves. Sorry. I know I'm being a wee bit emo, and that this post makes about as much sense as Sienna Miller's outfits. (I have also read a lot of papers this week.) I should go to bed. Tomorrow is my last lie in for a week. Alas. Etc.
