I fly like paper, get high like planes,
If you catch me at the border I got visas in my name,
If you come around here, I make 'em all day,
I get one down in a second if you wait ..
If you catch me at the border I got visas in my name,
If you come around here, I make 'em all day,
I get one down in a second if you wait ..
I saw Avatar for the 2nd time in 3D today, sadly not at the IMAX, but it was still as ruddy epic the second time round, and I left with the same feeling as before, the one of 'I dearly wish I had a huge fuck-off orange dragon that I could control with my thoughts'.
This second viewing was my successful attempt to avoid ice skating with the German Society, much as I love them, as I consider ice skating (or Eislaufen as they say in Deutschland) to be a sport for the sado-masochistic and the mentally ill. Unless you have Torvill and Dean-esque aspirations, then you're essentially paying to either glide round a slippery surface for a couple of hours, the novelty of which wears off fast, or cause yourself needless injury. Ice skating is bad times, end of.
No.
We've started lectures too; we had our first Bertolt Brecht one today. In-keeping with a rising tradition, we seem to have chosen Brecht because he's complicated and utterly depressing, another German novel of that type to add to the growing pile. There's that, and a lecture about gender roles in Weimar Germany (oh god why? Why?).
My elective course this semester is entitled "How children learn and communicate and how adults can help them". I expected this to be a fairly 'hands-on' sort of carryonsky, where we're taught how children learn and how we can help them. It seems sadly to be based around the more psychological aspects of growing up and learning, a topic which I thought I'd seen the end of when I turned my back on Freud's silly theories. Not yet apparently. Gah.
I'm also struggling for money at the moment; not that I'm lacking in it, but that for the 2nd time a Natwest cashpoint has conked out at the moment when I enter the amount of money, and eaten my card. So now I have the prospect, every time I need some money, of trekking down to the HSBC in town and drawing out said money with the aid of a little slip of paper. The first time, the cashier woman didn't have a goddamn clue how to use the computer, so I stood for half an hour while she faffed and distracted colleagues and generally sent the whole thing tits up. The second time I got a grumpy oriental girl, who didn't seem to understand that I didn't have a chequebook, and that I had no money in the world. Luckily, we managed to reach an understanding, and she thrust a £20 note resentfully through the little glass door and sent me on my way.
It's been a tough 4 days.
I've just got back from the Faversham, home of loud music and sticky floors, and eaten an ungodly amount of pasta. Its ten to 4, but not even this bothers me because I found out a short while ago that my only seminar tomorrow, a dreaded 9am, is cancelled. Get in.
This second viewing was my successful attempt to avoid ice skating with the German Society, much as I love them, as I consider ice skating (or Eislaufen as they say in Deutschland) to be a sport for the sado-masochistic and the mentally ill. Unless you have Torvill and Dean-esque aspirations, then you're essentially paying to either glide round a slippery surface for a couple of hours, the novelty of which wears off fast, or cause yourself needless injury. Ice skating is bad times, end of.
No.We've started lectures too; we had our first Bertolt Brecht one today. In-keeping with a rising tradition, we seem to have chosen Brecht because he's complicated and utterly depressing, another German novel of that type to add to the growing pile. There's that, and a lecture about gender roles in Weimar Germany (oh god why? Why?).
My elective course this semester is entitled "How children learn and communicate and how adults can help them". I expected this to be a fairly 'hands-on' sort of carryonsky, where we're taught how children learn and how we can help them. It seems sadly to be based around the more psychological aspects of growing up and learning, a topic which I thought I'd seen the end of when I turned my back on Freud's silly theories. Not yet apparently. Gah.
I'm also struggling for money at the moment; not that I'm lacking in it, but that for the 2nd time a Natwest cashpoint has conked out at the moment when I enter the amount of money, and eaten my card. So now I have the prospect, every time I need some money, of trekking down to the HSBC in town and drawing out said money with the aid of a little slip of paper. The first time, the cashier woman didn't have a goddamn clue how to use the computer, so I stood for half an hour while she faffed and distracted colleagues and generally sent the whole thing tits up. The second time I got a grumpy oriental girl, who didn't seem to understand that I didn't have a chequebook, and that I had no money in the world. Luckily, we managed to reach an understanding, and she thrust a £20 note resentfully through the little glass door and sent me on my way.
It's been a tough 4 days.
I've just got back from the Faversham, home of loud music and sticky floors, and eaten an ungodly amount of pasta. Its ten to 4, but not even this bothers me because I found out a short while ago that my only seminar tomorrow, a dreaded 9am, is cancelled. Get in.
