I return from a metal night at The Library with an even worse headache than the one I arrived with. Shouty music during the peak of a surprising hangover that appeared over 5 hours after I woke up is not the most pleasant of situtions. Tonight was reasonably good though, despite the fact that someone had taken the PA apart for little or no reason so everything was running around half an hour late. I think I'd have quite enjoyed the bands, even, if I wasn't feeling so rotten.
Afterwards, Benbow comes round with Beth and Adrian and we talk about photography and cinema and offensive jokes and Whiskas and Ali from Dance To The Radio. We admire Beth's latest photoshoot for Ant and Dan's band, then we rave about Danny North's picture of James, and then my head feels like it's eaten a tray of poppers and I have to come to bed and watch Red Dwarf before I lose the will to live through this searing pain.
Tomorrow I need to go to the bank to ask why they've deposited the best part of a grand that I thought was missing into a bank account I didn't even know I had until I received the statement for it, so I'm going to set my alarm for some horrible time in the morning in the hope that there's a reasonable chance I get up more than three minutes before I'm due at a lecture.
L x
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