Leaning on the pole on the train is very rude. At least six people could stand there and not fall over if you weren't doing that, so I reserve the right to dig my nuckles into your back and smile sweetly at your dirty look.

Every time I eat I feel sick. I like food. This is horrid.

I still haven't got my results. I don't yet know if they are really due in the next two weeks or if I have been a victim of industrial action. In a peculiar form of torture, last week, they replaced the holding message on my student homepage with red letters saying results are not yet available. Damn them.

Relative humidity is 71 and the weather is overcast. I would like a fresh breeze and a little sun.

Our knifethrowing neighbours have developed more advanced weaponry and increased accuracy - that shed door is really suffering. They look silly doing it while wearing suits though.

My first conversation this morning:
"Ciao bella. Espresso?"
"Si, grazie"
"Prego"
It is probably the last one that has gone the way it should.