Half Of This Was Away With Half Of Me

So how was your half-term?

Shut up. I don't want to hear about it. Instead you're gonna hear about mine.

For both weekends, I stayed in Oxford, and spent most of my time there with my pill. Which was brilliant. I enjoyed myself so much with her. I can't wait for her to come to our house dance :D

The rest of it was alright. The weekdays were spent in sunny London. Yes, I'm not actually being sarcastic here. London was indeed sunny. Sunshine and sunny rays. Sweeties and sugar days. Spent the day before Valentine's playing football with the lads. Heh. That was actually really quite fun. Of course playing for four straight hours gave me a really bad headache and a really sleepy head that felt as heavy as an anvil strapped to a cow. With three fat (sorry, I meant clinically obese) Americans on its back shouting "Yippe-Kay-Yay."

Of course when I was about to have a pre-sleep lunch, one of the cleaner ladies told me my brother was in the hospital, and out of obligation I had to stagger my way to St. Mary's hospital. Feeling probably worse than my brother, who was actually on the hospital bed having a nice little nap, I had to sit there for a couple of hours doing nothing, waiting for the doctors to actually find out what the hell was happening with him.

Almost dead, I excused myself for a few hours, saying I haven't eaten anything but dirt from playing football, which was actually true (Well...). It was an hour before I came back to the hospital, with Churn, Faiz and Deebs. If it wasn't for Deebs, I would've injected myself with morphine out of boredom, though I'm not sure how that would help. Then there was this curious guy who kept talking to me about football because I was wearing an Italian football jacket.

"Waff wafff Italy waff waff wishy waff World Cup 2012 waff England" was all I heard at first. Of course I didn't have the heart (or the balls) to tell him he was wrong, that there won't be a World Cup in 2012 (it's in 2010 and 2014) or that it wasn't in England. Then I pretended to understand what he was saying, and I managed to get away with it.

"Waff waff boosh waff Italy win waff Cup waff England not winning waff waff south african team maybe waff waff" he said. So I replied:

"Ah yes, but I think the Italian team is way too old, and some of them might have retired by then." To which he grumbled and mumbled out of grudge because I actually knew a thing or two about the Italian team.

Did virtually fuck-all for Valentine's. I did plan something for the pill, but by that stage it wasn't my job, it was the girls from Headington's job. I just giggled in the corner of the lobby wondering how well it's going, proud for having thought of such a plan.

I can't wait for March 1st.

Signing out

Over and out