A dispatch from the front


I am composing this blog entry late on Friday night (in sexy Notepad no less) with no available Internet connection with which to post it. But it feels long-overdue to write, and if all goes to plan tomorrow morning I shall head down to a marvellous little café down the road which offers free wireless connections – and sockets, and Louis Armstrong in the background – and blog away. Sadly, I only discovered the ‘free wireless’ quirk tonight and have spent the rest of the week jumping through innumerable hoops to try and get the Internet in my room! It is coming, honest… though I suspect nothing will arrive over the weekend, so a semi-permanent residence sipping hot chocolate in the café it is!

Oh, my room? It’s fine and very decently sized, though nothing spectacular, as with the house itself. But since Oliver and Owen arrived on Wednesday – along with Abi just down the road – there’s been a really good house spirit of cooking (still without hobs though, sorry Saoirse) and eating together which probably approximates to a ‘normal’ university experience without all the drinking. Almost a shame that Hall will return soon I shall blog photos soon!

The first few days of living here were very weird, mind you, without either the Internet or many people. Although in general this was Not A Good Thing it did allow me to join Abbi in discovering the strange delights of solo cinema visits: I only can’t remember if I’ve ever done it before! But on Sunday night I decided to take advantage of the last night of the Cambridge Film Festival to see Conversations With My Gardener. It’s a French film (an oh-so-very-French film) about an unlikely friendship between a ‘respected Parisian painter’ (I’m copying from the booklet here) and a retired railwayman who happened to have been schoolmates together. There’s a strange freedom involved in going to the cinema alone which allows you to really immerse yourself… now what I really need is the energy to additionally immerse myself in the swimming pool opposite the house for some high-falutin’ ‘exercise’

I hope everything is going wonderfully for all you freshers! And thanks to my blogging friends who filled up my Outlook tonight via the magic of RSS with their lives – happy or sad – allowing me to feel connected to home again. (Seriously, how cool is technology really? All I have to do is let Outlook bring in its trawl from across the web when wireless is available and it’s all waiting for me to read and digest in my room with no Internet to be found. Yay!)

Right, this has probably turned out to be very long without the ever-present temptation of the post button, so I shall bid you all goodnight now – or should that be good morning? – and sleep silly dreams. Like last night when I dreamt that Brown had discussed socialism in a party conference speech. Worrying.

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