I can sympathise with other people's pains, but not their pleasure. There is something curiously boring about somebody else's happiness.

So I have been home for 48 hours and the first thing my lovely wonderful parents gave to me was a massive bouquet of pink roses and other pretty little flowers which my mother stoically pointed out and named knowing perfectly well I won't remember, either way they smell gorgeous. I also got a very sentimental card (and anyone who knows myself and my family knows we don't really "do" sentimental, stiff upper lip and all that) and a cheque from mum, which unfortunately will go straight into the black pit that is my current account and nowhere near my wardrobe. I lie, of course, I bought a waistcoat-mini-dress and a hunting jacket but both are yet to arrive and then I'll make a decision, I'm still umming and ahhing about graduation ball dresses anyway and also I bought a load of stuff from Topshop and then lost the receipts. Clever Trevor. So I shall have to sell them.

Anyway my computer is being a little slow because the internet upstairs is hit or miss, so hopefully I'll post some pictures of my flowers and my newly unpacked bedroom in a second. I can't hang any of my clothes on the wall so it's all looking a bit sparse and also I couldn't get my georgian writing desk today so I'm making do with some throwback from the nineties. I mock but I'm not sure why.







My photographic skills are basic at best, and once again I've faffed around with the flash too often and got it stuck on some god awful setting, so sorry about the picture quality.

Also had another bouquet from my brother yesterday followed by the usual phonecall;

"thank you so much for the flowers."
"how do you know they're from me...maybe you have a secret admirer?"
"well...you wrote your name on the card".

Raw vegan is going terribly, I'm only managing about 70% raw and today I haven't eaten anything at all because of the tennis and I spent all day running around after my brother's dog Benni. Bad form. I want to say this week will be better and I'll put 110% effort into it but lets face it I have about a million things planned and probably won't have time to scoff down the amount of fruit and veg I need to hit my daily targets.

I'm actually not missing Exeter quite so much as I thought I would, but perhaps that's because a lot of people from farming county are on holiday or travelling and I don't really feel like I'm missing out, on top of which I'm now only a short distance from London and can go up a couple of times a week if I want to...which makes me think well what exactly is there to miss in Exeter anyway? I suppose I feel quite guilty for not missing it considering everything that's happened there over the past three years. This week I'm hoping to go to Camden one day to pick up some shisha pipes for a party on Friday and have a look for a vintage bowler hat, one that will actually fit my abnormally big head. I'm also scouting for some photography exhibitions in the area, although the last couple I went to were disappointingly select and a little over-subscribed with "modern art". I despise most modern art. Like that horrible man who tied a dog up in an art gallery and left him to starve over weeks as people watched, which is absolutely disgusting behaviour and it really riles me that no one intervened, not even the authorities. Art shouldn't be a vehicle for depravity and cruelty. I'm getting infuriated just remembering it even though it was at least 18months ago by now. Anyway. Bowler hats.

Actually whilst I'm here I might just throw in a couple of photos from our last night out - "If you kiss girls but you don't want to sleep with them..are you BI-sexual, or just B-sexual? Bomosexual? No, betrosexual??"