gah. three week bender of much fun and frolics. back in manchester – hangover and total body collapse imminent I feel…

not dead, but partying. hard. very very hard. back in oxford celebrating with my friends who are now finishing their finals and whose agenda is a highly-packed timetable of fun and playtime.

observations:

finalists go somewhat loopy under stress. for example: they can’t be bothered to chave and start cultivating interesting assortments of facial hair. they then decide to see what happens if you set fire to it. I kid ye not. (unsurprisingly, it singes)

the best post-finals trashing I saw, apart from the usual spraying-people-with-pseudo-champagne (i.e. a £4.29 bottle of fizzy piss), silly string, flour, eggs and custard pies, was some poor guy who had been laid out on a plank of wood, wrapped up in cling film, and was being carried around horizontally on said plank, before being propped up vertically against a wall in the pub and having neat vodka poured down his throat through a funnel.

three and a half months of convalesnce sucks, but getting back onto the partying bandwagon *rocks*. I haven’t had a night off since I got here almost 2 weeks ago, and I suspect my liver will hate me for it. but being back in the land of the dreaming spires is very very good.