On Structuring Such Things

Right. I've decided to begin structuring these as much more of a private journal-type thing, rather than something I'm doing for all of you (who don't exist). It is much more for me, and for posterity's sake, as well as being something I feel is much less angsty than a private diary or something in which i would just rant and scribble. Also that my handwriting is horrifyingly bad and that Times New Roman is infinitely easier to read than historians' scrawl. The new structure of these things shall to be to recount the days oddities, mishaps, and then give a synopsis of the overall happenings. Not to mooch or thieve from Bridget Jones, as I'm not trying to loose weight or stop smoking, but these things need structure. Like a bra.

Oddities: Monochromatic women.
Spotted two today. Amazing what you can see if you're paying attention in public places, like the Tube. One at the Euston Station and one at Bank.

First at Bank. She had short fringe in front which had been bleached adn then dyed unto a rainbow and was entirely orange; orange like a pumpkin, not like caution or security. Orange peacoat, tights, lace-up ankle boot galosh things (Harriett the Spy wears them-you know the ones), and the kicker: a cylindrical hand bag covered in the fur of the elusive faux-neon-orange-Yak variety.

Second at the Euston station, clinging to her jock-soccer/chav-football boyfriend like he was a bulldog in heat. Purple this time, and in differing shades: that dark purple hair color you obtain when you don't know how to do black low-lights, purple leotard over shiny purple tights, purple uggs, purple velvet jumper (zip-up hoodie for you Americans). A bit like Violet Beauregarde's costume in the second Willie Wonka film (the one with Johnny Depp as Wonka himself) but with tights. I imagine her gum was some shade of purple as well...

Mishaps: None. Save a very hungover boyfriend.
Following being roofied last night, he was obviously not going to be at the top of his game this morning (I always want that to be one word, can we make that one word from now on? You say it as one word. How odd our language is. And how odd mine has gotten with all this mismatched grammar and slang), thismorning, although he was a much better shade than last night. Weighing nearly 210 lbs and not 95 helps with having one's drink spiked, I suppose.

Summary: The day was good, if markedly unproductive.
I got neither Latin studied, Irish history read, no GRE was practiced (I did look at the questions for a practice test and may have pissed my pants I was so scared) and I didn't get around to the gym. I did have a nap in which my mother get very angry at my little sister and I for going in a ride in little hammocks pulled by a kite and then she and I got in a big argument, and she didn't even care than our hammock had fallen and when the string holding us up broke it had cut my leg. I also ate a bagel, a chocolate Krispy Kreme doughnut (which made many people on the Tube glare at me), and nearly stole a tree from a sleeping man on the Northern Line when coming back from the Wellcome Collection.

Lesson learned: You can, indeed, get both physically hurt and emotionally hurt whilst dreaming. Also that the Wellcome Collection is a bad place to take your girlfriend if you want children and she adamantly does not. Showing her medieval birthing models, forceps and birthing chairs and saying "You'll be using one of those soon!" is not encouraging. Oddly enough. Watching a wee tot get fed banana for lunch while she runs around tripping and stumbling (walking was clearly a nuance she had yet to master) was though. I blame elevated levels of hormones.