Ok, I had promised not to leave the house on this day, for reasons of self-satisfied aestheticism. Well, I did actually not leave the house today (so Sophie, if you're reading this (which I doubt that you are), you're still one ahead on me). So points for me.
So far, I've not had any response from the hermit society. But, you know, what do you expect? Not all of their caves have broadband. Boom!
But, you say, hermits don't need the internet. No, they have an information superhighway of their own. It's called carbon monoxide. Boom!
I'm a sad and pathetic human being. But at least I don't play yathzee with a hedgehog and call that an eventful day, in my diary which is made out of sheepskin and twigs. Boom! Where does he get it from. It's almost like it's from experience.
My flatmate and her friend have just been making mulled wine. I don't really understand mulled wine. For me, it tastes too much of Christmas markets and pretending to enjoy myself whilst thinking the man, there, looking after the IKEA playpen, dressed as Santa is Marc Dutroux, escaped from prison. I had a weird childhood, in that way. When I was six, one of the first jokes I learnt was:
DUTCH: Wat heeft Marc Dutroux op zijn oprit liggen? Kinderkopjes!
ENGLISH: What has Marc Dutroux done to his front garden? Put in cobbles that look like children's heads, so this fatuous joke works!
So there. Translating comedy doesn't have to be difficult. If you want to put on Jerry Springer The Opera ® in Dutch, call now!
I've been feeling quite annoyed with the sun setting at four. It seems like the day's over before it's begun. The problem here is that I am a big fan of the lie-in I wake up at eleven, potter around a bit, have breakfast, maybe speak to my mum on skype, and then realise: Oh, I should be doing something! Then do that. Five minutes later, the day's over. Bum.
It must be horrible for people who work in the Northern part of Europe, to leave home for work in total darkness and leave work when it's dark again (or, worse, still is!). I once had a job that was like that. It was in this big warehouse, filled with tiny little bits of machinery, that I had to go fetch, for 8 hours a day. Jesus. That and no sunlight. I felt like the gulags. But the coffee was quite good. So not all bad, then.
And after this particularly meaningless entry, I leave you. Bye!