Ah, sisters!

Telephone conversation with Sophie yesterday:

Sophie: I woke up in the night a few nights ago thinking "I don't know James's surname"!

Me: It's Smith

Sophie: [high-pitched] Oh!

Me: What?

Sophie: You can't change your name when you marry him. Rebecca Sm*th sounds like the sort of person who would wear really boring clothes!

That's decided that, then!

Touched by his Noodly Appendage

rAndy has discovered a new deity for us to worship, one that puts the theory of Intelligent Design into an entirely new perspective. The world was, in fact, created by a Flying Spaghetti Monster. Check out www.venganza.org

It all makes so much sense. If you're going to look at one part of this website though, check out the letters of complaint... and I'll leave you with this image of Adam being touched by His Noodly Appendage.

It's me, Becky - remember?

Just thought I should blog the fact that Loopy Term is about to officially commence. People will start acting weirder and weirder and there will probably be at least one suicide attempt. I'm determined not to join the crowds of worriers, either the ones who sit around swearing they've done no revision (when they quite obviously have), or those who loudly bemoan the fact that they are going to FAIL (and usually end up getting a first) or the ones who start acting and dressing very, very strangely (how would people notice the difference, anyhow?). Now that the bar has finally started serving G&Ts, I think I'll be ok - in my vast experience, the answer is usually at the bottom of a bottle of Bombay Blue Sapphire.

As part of my determined effort to not get caught up in exam worrying frenzy, I've booked a little one night holiday for Dreamy Boyf and myself for tomorrow and Friday. And half way through the exams, I'm going to Oxford for a weekend to run in the Towns vs Gowns 5k race. I think I may go out and get well drunk on the evenings before exams too!

PS. I should also mention the fact that Will thinks Heather's FANTASTIC. I worked over the Easter bank holidays at R*han - it was quiet, so there wasn't much work to do. So what I DID do was listen to Will tell me how absolutely gorgeous and fantastic Heather is. For 7 hours. Non-stop. If she's as fantastic as he says she is, and J is as fantastic as I know he is, Will and I have decided it's best they NEVER meet!

Julie's Household Hints

(Editor's note: I was going to re-draft the spacing, capitalisation etc on this - but Julie is writing the way she sometimes talks during periods of stress, so I thought it best to publish it in its original form! Thank you for keeping my blog alive, Julie - you shall be rewarded with fizzy pop!)

 handy household hints for the woman about town who can't stop men
disappearing to cork and needs to fix those tricky household problems
plumbing in a washing machineinvite your dad to stay.  show him washing
machine.  look sad but tentatively hopeful.  leave the room. plumbing in
a dishwasherinvite ten friends round for dinner.  get them drunk.  feed
them curry.  mention dishwasher and regret that platonic erik isn't there
to plumb in dishwasher, as he's with his girlfriend, who is actually a
lovely person.  watch as big brother ken and, bizarrely, mr f-w also,
plumb it in.  gentle readers will wish to note that this was before mr
f-w disappeared, that he forgot to switch on the water, which is
apparently very, very bad, and that, really, ken did all the work while
mr f-w gazed at me in that
messed-up-childhood-commitment-phobic-world-traveller way. putting up
curtainsinvite friend round for dinner.  mention curtain poles.  smile
winningly.  drink wine and make comments about how important it is to
have supportive friends.  hold other end to help out.  hold spirit level
in middle.  help with the screwing - ask becky if unsure about this part.
making a door smallernow, i haven't actually found anyone to do this, but
louise, my friendly neighbour, says that you get a hacksaw to take off
the wee metal bit at the side, then rub the door vigorously and
determinedly over some strong sandpaper.  this apparently makes the door
smaller.  ken disagrees with this and is refusing to lend me his
hacksaw.  i'm not even sure what a hacksaw is.  ken says i need to rehang
the door and should get erik to do it for me.  but then, erik is with the
new girlfriend.  grateful for handy hints from blog readers on this one,
to be honest. building a wardrobe from a flat packplatonic erik has
promised to do this, but see above for possible problem.  for any blog
readers that are interested in putting flat pack wardrobes together (with
apparently optional mirrors if you can believe the description) i live
right in the centre of dublin, which apparently ranks higher than london
as a place to live, and will happily put readers up for a weekend, buy
them a drink of their choice and cook for them.  telephone banking,
credit card bills and forward planningdon't ever put these together!!!
three weeks ago, it made perfect sense to arrange for €1,000 to leave my
account today to pay some of my credit card bill.  today, when i'm flying
to vienna tomorrow, and have just discovered i have no money in my
account, it seems like a foolish, foolish idea.  i'm wondering if i
should take the hacksaw (what is it?  what does one look like) to my
credit card and phone instead.  update on mr f-wmr f-w is apparently in
cork.  ken rang him the other day and he explained his whereabouts, said
that he had meant to ring him and that he "had to/should/meant to call
julie as well" (ken didn't remember his exact wording and i'm not sure
which is worse, so have included all of them for analysis).  so that's
all ok then. i'm like that filing you always mean to do, or the spring
clean, or the visit you always mean to make to your dentist, or, indeed,
that flat-pack wardrobe you mean to get someone to put together.  i'm
like diy!!  my god!!

Where I'd Like to be Right NOW!

In Switzerland (preferably the French-speaking part, near some good restaurants), in the sunshine, in a chalet, with my perfectly dreamy boyfriend...

Guest Blog Feedback

I've had two e-mails this week from people saying how much they are enjoying the guest blog. Hurrah for Mad Irish Julie! You'll also be glad to know, Julie, that Sophie is busy pondering how to make a doorway smaller...!

Back Door Man Strikes Again (click on photo to read sign!)

Back Door Man

The Pathetic Fallacy

My dear Olaf,
The sea is beautiful today.  It soothes my soul to watch the boats
bobbing on the waves as they come ashore.  The sailors are so brave.
Oh Olaf, if only you could see the sea today.  Spring has arrived, and
with it the cherry blossom and birdsong.  Do you remember?  Can you
remember?
I watched the boats and remembered.
I felt joy, briefly.
With hope,
Nikita

My dear Olaf,
Today, I watched the boats again.  It seems strange that anything can
lift my spirits after all that we have lost, but somehow these boats,
with their brightly coloured sails, remind me that life goes on.  Today,
a party of schoolchildren ran towards the harbour, singing and dressed
up against the still biting wind.  It was beautiful.  Do you remember
the songs we used to sing?  Before the end?
I felt joy, briefly.
With hope,
Nikita

My dear Olaf,
Now that the snow has nearly gone, flowers are appearing everywhere.  I
gather them in the forest where the woodland folk used to gather.
Today, the sea was rough.  The boats tossed on foaming waves.  I could
hear shouts and laughter from the sailors.  The sea will be there long
after us; long after our tears have dried.  I imagined the sea could
carry my heart to you, wherever you are.
I felt joy, briefly.
With hope,
Nikita

Dear Nic,
For God's sake, we're from Dublin, not Russia.  What's the deal with the
bobbing boats?
Olly
PS You're still dumped

Nothing to see here...

This blog is going to get even more dull than usual, as all I'm doing now is revising (and eating). So it's probably best that you just move along now....

OR
I could deputise one of you to write the blog for me while I'm busy studying. Mad Irish Julie is the favourite at the moment, with her alluring mixture of domesticity, diplomacy, intrigue and promiscuity (I made that last bit up - but it would make for a more interesting blog, surely!).

A right royal booze-up

We had dinner with Prince Philip on Thursday. It was an intimate affair, just us, Prince Philip and a whole bunch of Australians, Kiwis and students from Jesus College! His Royal Highness kept his trap firmly shut, so alas no gaffs to report. At the end of the meal, the New Zealand deputy High Commissioner was a pitiful sight, going from table to table, asking "any Kiwis?". He didn't seem to find any so was unable to fulfil his pastoral/consular objective for the evening!

When I'm not busy dining with royalty, my time is spent up to my tits in revision. It's all taking a long time to sink in as decades of alcohol abuse are starting to take their toll. I console myself with vast quantities of beer every evening. It helps me to forget what I have forgotten.