A descision has been made. The Gruesome Twosome are moving out on the 18th of December. Now, since we all have to hand in our keys together, that means I am too. Thus, dear readers, that means we have less than a month left in each others' (not sure about that apostrophe) company. I've managed not to exchange a single word with Obnoxious Flatmate all week, which has improved our relationship immeasurably.
Isn't Goblet of Fire awesome? The acting has improved, the CGI is spectacular, and Alan Rickman looked like he was wearing Armani. Felt a bit cheated by the brevity of certain bits, such as the World Cup, but in general, pleased with the film. Shame they skipped the blasting of the rose bushes, though. Much funnier than the previous three, also.
Jamie has a sore throat, despite which he manages to moan about it quite manfully, i.e. a lot. Kept him company yesterday while he sat on the sofa ensconced in a duvet and blanket watching crappy TMF number ones.
Just had coffee with H. Apparently S's father and brother have found out about her secret boyfriend and put her under house arrest so that she can't see him. Her mum's in Sri Lanka sorting out a bloke for her middle sister, and won't be back for a couple of weeks, so S is housebound in the company of two hurt, suspicious men. Said boyfriend, as I think I've said before, is actually eminently suitable - it's not like he's a non-Tamil unemployed guitarist or something. However, the menfolk remain as yet unconvinced that he isn't just after a visa. Very Jane Austen.
Desdemona has far more fun than me. It's not fair. All I have to look forward to is the year 11s going on study leave at the end of this week.
Bah.
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