Arses. I just cracked my knuckles in a marked show of determination, and it just plain hurt.

I wasn't going to bother writing on here any more, mainly because nobody reads it anyway, and partly because I couldn't be bothered. And the longer I left it, the more there became to write about, and the more not-bothered I became. But I just read back a few entries and rather enjoyed my writing style so I shall continue, if only to satisfy my own ego. Read on, Macduff, read on.

So my sister and her husband went to the Maldives for christmas. On boxing day they were on the beach having a stroll, before it got hot. Nick had had a virus and was going to go back to bed, and Ann was going to find some shade to read, and they heard a maid from the resort complex scream and start shouting to them to get away from the water. Not really a great start to the day, but they could both clearly see a large wave bearing down on their small island. Assessing the situation, which didn't take long because Nick was dizzy and Ann doesn't do running (especially on sand in those shoes), Nick grabbed onto Ann, dug his feet deep into the sand, and turned his back on the water. The wave apparently hit him and went straight over them. But Nick stayed where he was and the water quickly subsided to only four feet, allowing them to wade very carefully back to slightly higher land and slightly shallower water. It sounds amazing, that in the space of about 30 seconds the whole island they were on (and also hundreds of others, I've no doubt) was submerged in a few feet of the Indian Ocean.

But it wasn't for another six hours or so that they understood what had happened that day. And they realised they'd had a small glimpse of the wave that had killed over 150,000 people in one morning. We were in the car driving north when we found out. Andrew called mum to let her know about it so she didn't see it on a tv somewhere and go mad with panic. He let her know that the Maldives weren't as badly hit as a lot of places, but contact had been lost with nearly all of the 1100 islands in the archipelago. I knew that the island they were on was on the western side of the island, and just below halfway up. So my geography and physics told me that the wave will have dissipated a lot by the time it reached them. However, even a four-foot tsunami is potentially lethal. When we arrived at my grandparents', they had the tv on and were watching the news bulletins from the areas worst hit. It's a bit callous, but I was glad that Sri Lanka had taken the sting out of the wave that headed the way of the Maldives. Geography was in their favour, it seemed. Although not completely, as I guess geography was in Ipswich's favour, with two continents and about 200 feet of above-sea-level-ness in the way, but I'm sure my point is valid. Then later that day we got a text message saying that they were both well, warm and dry and they'd get in touch when they could. But we didn't hear from them for another four days, when they landed in Gatwick. They headed straight for Nick's Mum's and were well fed and looked after for a few days before they headed back to Colchester.

So much for a peaceful trip north to see family. But thank heavens they only lost clothes in all that happened. You can't go to bluewater and get your sister back in the sales. I just can't really begin to know what it must be like for the people who lost family members that day. So many children orphaned, and parents losing children. It beggars belief.

I think I'll leave that one there for the moment, just with a link here for the disasters and emergencies committee. All donations help in some way.

Give blood.

I just did. And beforehand had the usual little medical interview. Conversation went as thus:

Nurse: Hello Mr Hazon, are you fit and well today?
Ian: I'm certainly well, at least
Nurse: And fit...

Nurses eh? All the same. Still, she had sparkly eyes and a happy smile so I'm glad that's how my tax money's being spent.

Off to the soccer in a wee while, should be Rock Solid Dee Jay

I hate times like this. Currently I'm sitting here in the kind of mood that would perviously have seen me knocking holes in plasterboard with my knuckles. And why? Because a couple of people have decided I'm not fun to talk to any more. I know I care about one of them deeply, and the other I used to, but it shouldn't make me so angry. I think I see things in black and white too much. I just don't understand why people can't just be honest with me. I'd much rather someone said to me "Ian, you're a dullard and you piss me off. I'm not going to talk to you any more" than just stopped and then half-heartedly kept up a pretence of friendship. Is that really too much to ask for? Apparently so.

The goalposts thing is in reference to my recovery from the depression. Whenever I feel like this and everything just seems so pointless I realise I'm further away from being myself than I thought...

Hi y'all. I've slackened off with my updating a little. Not really had a lot to update on. But I was back in London this weekend, I went and saw Aqualung play the Queen Elizabeth Hall on the South Bank.

First off, the venue. It's an amazing hall, really. I know it was purpose-built for acoustics, and you can really tell. We were lucky enough to have seats bang in the middle of the venue, where the sound is best, and I have to say it's the best I've ever heard. I know their sound engineer is excellent, so that helps, but the hall itself is out of this world. A nice large stage, really comfy seats, easy to get to them all, superb stuff. Really great lighting too. Basically, it's a venue I recommend for the quality of the sound.

Next, the music. Wow. It was just dreamy. We got there a little late, and entered as a band called 'Coal Hill' were playing. They were very good, with an upright double bassist, guitarist and singer. They'd also roped Jim Copperfield in from the Aqualung setup to play keys, which added a bit more to the sound, but the music was really nice. Excellent bassist. Then there was a short break while a few mics were tweaked with, and Matt Hales walked out to introduce his next guest performer. "I've known this man from when he was born. I was 2 at the time, and there was a certain amount of resentment, it has to be said, but I've grown to love him and respect him in many ways. Ladies and gentlemen, my brother, Ben Hales"... And so Ben came out to play a couple of tracks from his album "Value Music" (which is on sale in the foyer, incidentally). He in turn introduced Duke Special to the stage, and the three of them played 'Like I Need You' - a really quite beautiful ballady track from Ben's album. And Duke's voice in that hall was so amazing, it was like he was sitting just next to me and singing. They played a few tracks, then there was another short break, and then Matt came back to introduce his next guest, Melanie Blatt. She used to be in the group All Saints, a while ago, and now is making her debut solo project with Matt Hales and his wife, Kim Oliver. Kim joined them on stage, as she has a beautiful singing voice, and they played about four tracks of Mel's, which were lovely. Mel's voice is like a more soulful Bic Runga, really crisp and loud at times, with a more gravelly soft side to it too. Really something. And that was great too, Ben was on guitar and Matt on piano, with the two singers. After that there was a short set from Mr Duke Special. And he's just amazing. If you get a chance to see him play, then go. He's touring in the new year, and I intend to see two of the shows. Ben played guitar for him, and there was a drummer/percussionist, and a fella on violin, and Matt Hales came on to help with backing vocals for the last track. Stunning stuff, it really was.

Then there was the interval. I think we had to have one, as it was at the Festival Hall. So Gem and I sat and watched everyone milling around. There was a real eclectic mix of people at the gig. Some industry-types that I recognised, some friends of the performers I recognised too, and the rest were made up of everyone from elderly men and women through proper indie types through to the screamy girly fans and their boyfriends with the 'proper' hair-do's. And then there was a large portion of people like Gem and I. You know, normal.

Then Aqualung came out. And they were out of this world. They played stuff they don't play all the time, and alternative versions of other bits, and just different arrangments. I really hope the performace was recorded, because it was so good. For the final track, Gentle, everyone from the evening came on stage and a dozen people played along. Absolutely wonderful. I don't know what else to say about it. Just that I'm so glad I didn't miss out on it.

After the show, I went back to Gem's and we ate biscuits and drank tea til the small hours. Rock and fucking Roll.

Next day, I went with Gem to Liverpool Street, made sure she got her train ok. Then I got a sandwich and went to the gallery-esque upper level of the station and watched everyone while I ate. I didn't see anyone I recognised, but I like watching people in stations. There are so many different people. It's great. Then I headed to Archway to meet Chris and Anya. On the way, there was a girl who was just plain beautiful. She must be a model. She may even be famous, but I don't know. Anyway, she had a large case and was struggling with it, so I offered to help carry it on the stairs. Moorgate station has a few flights of steps, and she was grateful for my offer. First thing surprised me, she was english. She was way too beautiful to be english. I thought italian. But no, english. And a gorgeous voice too. Mmmm, I love voices. But we got chatting a little bit on the way, she's a student of Psychology and the weight of her bag was from half a dozen text books she was taking home. She asked where I'm from, and knew where Ipswich is. I was surprised, so she explained that her boyfriend is from Norwich. "Wanker" I said, and I really meant it.

So I met Chris and Anya. I lived next to Chris in my first year at Birmingham and we've kept in touch since. Anya is his girlfriend and they live in Crouch End. We chatted and joked, then went to a pub to meet with a couple of other friends of theirs for a meal. While waiting in the pub, we saw two blokes from Eastenders (Billy and Dennis junior) and an attractive lady. They were looking for somewhere to watch the football, and left again as it was so busy. But there you go. Chris and Anya's friends ended up being really late, so we just went to eat on our own. Went to a new restaurant called 'Thaitanic' I shit you not. But the food was really great. I had a yellow curry, simply because I'd never heard of it. It was basically somewhere between a red and a green thai curry, and was out of this world. Seriously good.

Then I drove home. In the pouring rain. And was tailgated. There are some seriously twattish drivers in this country.

Right, I'm hungry and need a wee. I had a proper good lie-in today and I plan not to waste my energy this afternoon!

Keep it real, pop pickers. Daddy loves ya

I took these. I was in Brighton when I took them. I took them with my new Lomographic Society Colorsplash camera. I was using ISO 100 Konica film too, but I doubt you're interested in that.

First up, this picture is called 'Pegasus':

Next we have 'Brighton Pier':

And finally, to satisfy my vanity, 'Self Portrait':

I went to the London this weekend just past. Went and stayed with Gem, which was ace as usual. We journeyed far and wide (though mainly south) to shopperise ourselves in the christmas spritit. There was a bit of fuck-off-masses-of-people-related anxiety on my part, but a steaming coffee saw to that. What did I expect, walking from Oxford Street to Regent Street? It's one of my least favourite places as it it, let alone with the thronging masses and their screaming kids. I much prefer the markets of Covent Garden and Camden, where it's that busy all year round and so Christmas is little different. Just people buy more, is all.

Fay must have been bored out of her mind on friday, as she actually replied to a text. The closest to inittiating contact she's come in the last couple of weeks. I'm not usually one for banging my head against a brick wall, but some causes are definitely worth persuing. I tempted with a nod towards earlier amusing texts that included "I'm on a train to london!" every couple of weekends, by sending "I'm on a car to London!". See what I did? Marvellous. I'll write it down for you some day. Anyway, I got a reply. Which should have been nice, but as that's the only thing she's said to me for so long it just made me sad. To cheer myself up I played overtaking games with people on the M25.

That reminds me. Gem and I nearly got severely run over at the weekend. Crossing the finchley road on a green man/red light combination, we were halfway across one carriageway when a people carrier shot past about two feet in front of us, going about 40 straight through the red light. If my life were a dark blue Nissan, there'd be a metaphor there. As it is, my life is just a bunch of stuff that happened, and so I said "fuck" and carried on walking. No brakes were applied by nissan driver, and we got an incredulous look from a bus driver who had watched. And then the evening continued.

One bad thing about going to London is the reminder that I don't have a great deal of money. I've never been one for fashionable extravagance, but even I could take a few credit cards to their limit in Covent Garden and Carnaby Street. It's a shocking sin, that such gorgeous clothes should cost so much. I've promised myself some new jeans though, as over half of mine have patches on them. Actually, a lad looked at my shoes today at school and said to me "so is that the style then or what?". I liked it. But he's a little shit, so I took the piss out of his accent with the reply "stoil?"... I also stared down a group of marauding year 11s who came barging into my room. I said nothing and forced them back with eye power. Such is the force of intellect over morons.

I have to see the doctor. It's been 6 months since last time, and he's written in in red ink on my repeat prescription. I think he's making a point. So I went to book an appointment after I picked up this month's pills, and forgot that the receptionists at the surgery are above God. If it doesn't suit them, then it doesn't get done. Apparently I can't book an appointment for thursday, because they're all gone. And tomorrow's. Friday's appointments will be taken tomorrow from 8.30, I should call early to make sure. Except I can't do friday, so she kindly suggested I try phoning on thursday to book for monday. Can't I just book a non-urgent appointment now? Can I fuck. "I seem to remember going round these circles last time I tried to make an appointment. Maybe I'll try again next year." and those words took me out of the reception with the lady looking on me with a mixture of pity and pure vengeance. I'll get what's coming to me, when I least expect it too. But I won't get an appointment. A second black mark will go next to my name now.

I'm in a moaning mood. And why shouldn't I be? Work's more boring than snooker on the radio and I'm sick of trying not to think about Fay. I hate the pressure of christmas shopping and can only find things for people I'm not getting presents for. Moreover, I think I'm due a rant. I'm settling back into being me again, and everything's cool, except for my friends. I don't know who's pissed off with me and who isn't, so I'm just letting the waters flow and seeing where it ripples. Doing that for as long as I have been builds up frustration, let me tell you. This will probably mean I'll sleep well tonight.

Don't know how to end all thi

Fucking pop-ups...

So I went into town yesterday and picked up my first four reels of film from my Lomography. And they're a real mixed bunch. Quite interesting, but only about 40% are any good! At least I know which films work best in my camera, which is good and bad. Good because I can buy ISO 200 films in future, but bad because I still have another six 100 speed films to get through. Figure I'll just experiment with various shite with them. I'll post a few of the better ones on here when I get round to scanning them.

I fell asleep at work today. I'm in a phase of lethargic spells at the minute, and I'm eating a hell of a lot. A bit weird. Means I can't wake up in the mornings, and invariably have a couple of hours in the early afternoon when I either fall asleep or very nearly fall asleep. Ho hum, as with all things it will pass.

Um, not much to add to that. Going to London for the weekend, have a few lazy days with Gemma and maybe do some shopping. At the very least I'll get some cards. Which will probably sit un-written until after the post deadline. Again.

I'm going to bed now, I'm knackered.

I'll not be getting my christmas treat this year.

I've been able to bear the idea of christmas shopping this year, something I usually dread with my whole body for weeks. I've even been quite optimistic about it. And this is because I've known that a week before christmas day I'd be in London on the South Bank watching Aqualung and Duke Special with Fay. Maybe a nice meal beforehand, see the lights, walk along the river, take a few photos. But a good friend of hers has arranged her 21st birthday celebrations for that night, so I've (quite rightly) surrendered my rights to her company for the evening. It's only once (officially, anyway) that we turn 21, and it silly to miss a friend's special day for the sake of a gig that will invariably be repeated in a couple of months. Still, it was probably the thing I've been most looking forward to this holiday season.

Instead, I'm now going with Gemma, and then on to see some uni friends in Hampstead. Should be a fair few of us around for drinkies and chats, which will be a very nice way to lead into the holiday. Then Dad's taking me to the football on the 21st, Ipswich vs Wigan. Should be a hell of a match, teams 1 and 2 in the division, top scorers, all that jazz. And Dad's great at football matches because he cares so little, yet gets so involved.

So maybe it's not looking so bleak, but I'm allowed to be a little disappointed aren't I? We'll have to see what the new year holds.

In other news, I'm applying for a job to start in january, fairly confident in getting it too. And I'm going to grow my hair out a bit.

Gemma came home for the weekend, so I met up with her and we walked her doggy. He knows when he's going to see me because that's the only time he walks in this direction. Apparently he was pulling on his lead all the way. Hehe, and there's me thinking I'm a cat person. Might go and see Gem at the weekend, I don't think I can bear another one in Ipswich.

It's hard for me to put things into words. I was blessed with a scientific brain, and not an artistic one. If I wrote something like a poem or song, or story or one of these entries, I have to think a lot about what I'm writing and what I hope to say by the end of it. An artist or someone with an artistic flair wouldn't have to think so much, they'd just be able to convey what was in their head into whichever medium they are working with.

And it's a constant bane, that this should be the case. Because more than anything I'd love to have that artistic flair. It's not that I think any less of myself for not possessing it, but I certainly do admire and envy those who do. That's why sometimes it takes me a long time to get to the point when I'm talking about important matters. And by the time I've got there, I guess you'd have stopped reading. Or stopped caring.

If I were able to translate my feelings for you into music, I'd write you the most amazing symphony. If I could describe it with poetry, I would write volumes that would put Shakespeare to shame. If my hands could paint a picture of my heart's yearning, it would dazzle so bright as to make the sistine chapel look like a cheap postcard. But without these artistic gifts, I am left with what I can give you. And that is me. I would give you everything I am, and everything I have. I would love you with every thought I have, every action, every movement.

If only I knew who you were

I've discovered a lapse in my intelligence. I was in Tesco yesterday, shopping for mexican food ingredients. I noticed, with a sense of deja vous, that the avocados weren't where I expected them to be. In Tesco (at least in the one in Ipswich) there is a generous fruit section. This section is divided into many sub-sections, into which the fruits are classified. There are exotic fruits, stoned fruits, soft fruits, apples, citrus, that kind of thing. I figured that Avocados would be with stoned fruit. Wrong. Second thought was exotic fruit. Wrong. I was a bit confused, because I thought it was both of these things, so must be at least one. However, after about ten minutes I found them, nestled in with the apples. Why? Do they notice me entering the car park and decide to move them just to laugh at me? Every bloody time I go to buy Avocados I have real difficulty actually finding them. Bah. What a shit story.

I've got a quote for you. Are you ready? It's really very good. Here it is:

"A University without a chemistry department should be stripped of the title and redesignated a liberal arts college, which is all it is."

That was said by Harry Kroto, winner of the Nobel Prize for his co-discovery of Buckminster Fullerines. A wise and learned man, who imparts a great deal of common sense to his fellows, it would seem.

My late grandfather would be proud. I've discovered a latent skill for mending things. You could almost call it a practical talent. Who'd have thought?! Took my phone apart at work today and taped some copper to where I broke the aerial, now it works right as rain! This is after I fixed the oven door earlier in the week. And I keep mending things at work for various people. Yeah, he'd be proud.

Was born today at 2pm in Edinburgh. He weighed 7lb 14oz and he and his mammy are well and happy!

My new baby cousin arrived today!! Apparently Ruth went into labour this morning, gave birth at 2, and will be home again tomorrow! How good is that?! It's so great that all's gone well, as she's had a miscarriage recently aswell. Maybe this bodes well for my sister too, who lost a baby shortly after Ruth did. But little Thomas Eoin is now in our lives, and we all thank the appropriate celestial authorities for that.

I can well imagine mum jumping on a plane to go and babysit for them, regardless of the expense. She loves babies, and they generally love her. She's away up there this weekend anyway to give Ruth some advice and allay some fears and concerns. So she's double excited now. A new nephew, the first on her side of the family, and now she gets to mother her little sister aswell! Seventh heaven... I'll see baby Tom around new year, when we drive up and visit.

In other news, I've broken the aerial in my mobile phone, so apologies if anyone's tried getting in touch. I'm going to try a temporary fix at work tomorrow, and maybe also find me a new aerial somehow. I think it's probably also a good time now to get my annual upgrade on my handset. Which means I have to bury myself in technical crap. Anyway, that's something to look forward to.

Be warned: if ever you are going to work in an area where there are a lot of children, I recommend you think twice before deciding to wear a t-shirt emblazened with the Superman "S".

I'm not sure why it didn't occur to me this morning when I picked up the t-shirt. I should have thought about it and decided 'no, the kids will only point at me all day and say 'superman' in various high-pitched voices and with degrees of coherency!. And thus I'd have saved myself exactly that day-long treat.

Twice before I've regretted having worn this t-shirt. I wore it once when in Birmingham, and was followed through the city centre by a couple of lads who ran along pretending their coats were capes. I wouldn't have minded but for their accents...
And another time I was in Colchester, and walking along with a couple of friends we noticed that an embankment next to the train line had caught fire. Well, we saw some kids set it alight, but either way we called the fire brigade because it got right out of control. A small group of kids gathered round, so we had to stop them getting near the flames. A small girl stood there and said "Wiv dat jumper are you that fing what flies through the air?". I cringed again... The accent again...

Yeah. Optimistic mood today, feeling a little deflated right now but generally more perky. Went for a run this morning which probably did me a lot of good. Also I think reading Bronte books helps me. There seem to be such awful situations in those stories, that I think about what I'm getting down about and it is 'but a mere trifle', as one of the sisters might have said. Might be odd, gaining context from a 150-year-old novel, but hey. Beggars can't be choosers.

Should have a new cousin any day now aswell. S/he was due today, but my auntie was still at home yesterday, so it could be at any time. Splendid!

Also, why can't I put my feelings into words? I could write a song, then someone could say it's shit and then I'd probably feel a whole lot better. Keeping it in my head is just giving it weight, and that keeps my spirits low. It's like the ballast on the baloon of my mood. If I could let the metaphorical sandbags fall to the ground, I'd be soaring with the birds and clouds as I was just a few weeks ago. Ho hum.

Not in a Dr Frankenstein way, but I cooked a lovely tea today and washed up after too, after my mum and dad had had a very hard day's shopping.

And I can wash, iron, clean things, mend things, I give great shoulder, back, foot and scalp massages. If I were a mail order bride, I'm sure I'd fetch top good dollar dollar.

Going to Southend in the morning, errand time. And a family meal for christmas too, as it's the last chance we all have of getting together. Should be very nice.

Hope you all slept well

I can feel the life seeping back into me. Nice

Started reading Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte today, next stage of my classics education. Apparently it's heavy going. I've done about ten pages so far, not including the lengthy introductions by Emily's sister Charlotte, and it doesn't seem too bad. Time is the test of a good book though. I'll keep you informed!

I was reading the Aqualung message board earlier, about support acts for Aqualung's christmas special. Sara has gone on about there not being any support, but I know that's not true. It's advertised as 'very special guests', and I know of one act performing with them. Apparently it's not going to be a straight gig, more of a recital and jools-holland-esque thing. So it makes sense that there'll be a few people performing. Got me wondering who it might be, and I was trying to figure whether it's possible the 45s will reform. I doubt it, but it'd be amazing. And I think I've confused Lok on there too, I made a joke reference to Tony Perretta (their sound engineer) having a solo release coming up. I don't know if she was actually excited by that or just playing along.

I flirted horridly at work today. Which is really really bad, considering I work in a high school. But I'm setting up stuff for the year 13 biology investigations this week, and a few of the girls in that group are so foxy... Was helping one today, and she's got a gorgeous smile... I'm a sucker for a pretty face, I really am. Ah well.

Er, not much has happened lately, just stuff in my head. So it's over and out from Roger xx

I can't make sense of my head. I've been having miniature mood swings all weekend, with a climax of a panic attack on Sunday. Unfortunately (or possibly fortunately), I was at Liverpool Street Station at the time, so I had to bottle it up. I sat on the bus to get home (more about that later) and just wanted to cry for some reason. So I practiced containing it, and put some music on iPpy, and it passed ok. And today I've just been really quiet, very insular, just not really done anything. And about ten minutes ago I had an amazing moment of clarity, when everything made perfect sense and nothing was confusing. I wish that'd last a bit longer, at least until I could write it down or something. Ah well...

So I went to Brighton this weekend just gone. And the upshot of my trip is that I now want to take drawing classes, I plan to be teetotal, and I've got the urge for owning some original artwork. The more astute of you will have guessed already that I visited a few little galleries. On Sunday morning Chris went to Church with a friend of his from Ipswich who now lives in Brighton, so Cathy Cara and I went for a walk along the seafront, with designs on some breakfast and looking at some arty shops and galleries. My favourites were Linda Boucher and John Marshall. Linda's gallery is dominated by a series of paintings of pink/red high-heeled shoes. And that's just plain sexy. They're so bold, and bright. Really struck a chord with me. John Marshall is apparently known as The Cow Painter, and it's fairly obvious why when you step into his place. Gorgeous gorgeous pictures of cows set against plain colour backgrounds, makes them stand out really nicely and adds to their charm. He also has a series of paintings of townscapes, mainly coastal. Very interesting they were too. And I told Cara how I've always wanted to be able to draw, and she made me promise to join an evening class. So I will, in the spring when they start up again. So there.

The teetotal thing came from the fact that I drank more in three days than I have in three months previous. I'm pretty sure that's the main reason for my moodswings, too. Apparently alcohol interferes with Fluoxetine, so maybe it's about time I thought about that a bit more. From now on I'm going to try not to drink any alcohol for at least the rest of 2004.

So on Friday the school was closed for lessons, because they had what's called a 'tutor day'. Basically a day-long parents' evening. Parents made appointments to speak to their kids' tutors at some point in the day, discussed how everything's going, then went again. Pretty pointless in my opinion, but then I'm not running a large comprehensive school. But after a week of OFSTED inspection, I guess it was just an excuse to have a relaxing day. The science department received an overall rating of 'good', which they're very pleased about. But anyway, on Friday I left work at 12 because there was bugger all to do, and packed and caught a train to London and then to Brighton. I arrived in Brighton at 5.25, a very easy journey indeed, hardly any waiting around anywhere. A short taxi ride later found me at St Christopher's Inn, a hostel not far from the pier on the seafront. Quite a nice little place, too. Comfy beds and clean bathrooms, and a nice bar downstairs. It's basically a pub/club with a hostel and hotel attached. There are branches in London, Edinburgh, Newquay, Bath and Eastbourne aswell, and apparently they'd accidentally booked us into the London hostel instead of the Brighton one. So when Chris and Cathy arrived on Thursday evening, they had to shuffle people around to fit us in for the weekend! It wasn't a problem, in the end, though I nearly had to sleep in a large dormitory filled mainly by young geordie girls. Hell. Very drunk and very loud, and hanging around with some of the most twattish men I've known of. Picking fights at 2am with taxi drivers for looking at their bird. Wankers.

On Saturday we went exploring round Brighton. Nick and his wife Liz came down from Essex to see us all, which was really nice, and also Nicola came and found us too. She's studying in Brighton, and I hadn't seen her for ages. Was also very cool. We went wandering round little shops in little streets, and I decided that I definitely wouldn't be too pissed off if I lived in or around Brighton. Very very cool place. Some great little card shops, and a superb record shop in which I spent my spending money (I was going to get a new scarf and gloves because it was so bitterly cold). And then we went and had a nice Italian meal together, before Nick and Liz had to head back. Then we went to pub and drank and took photos (Lomo) and had a laugh, and it was really nice. Fish and Chips were purchased at midnight, and we tried eating them on the beach but it was way too cold and windy by then. A good night's sleep followed that, which was a very welcome thing indeed.

For some reason, I wasn't hung over on Sunday morning. By rights I should have been, after my beers and gins, but my head was clear and my eyes were wide. So Chris headed off with Skippy, and we three walked the shingle street and headed for a nice little cafe. I partook in Eggs Benedict. I'd never had it before, but always fancied it. And it's now a favourite. Two poached eggs atop some sliced ham and toasted muffins, all drizzled with Hollandaise sauce. Absolutely yummy. And with a nice hot Mocha, it really couldn't get much better. More photographs were taken, more chat shared, and we browsed little shops and galleries, I bought a few handmade badges and a few cards, had conversations with people about anything I could think of. And we made our way back to the hostel, where we met Chris and then headed off to find a pub that would serve hot food and show hot soccer action. Ipswich were playing Sunderland and it was live on Sky. We settled for the Walkabout, and drank some imported Australian beer (Tooheys New) and various nibbly foods. Then we headed back and Chris and I caught a cab to the station and went our separate ways. He to a train, I to a bus. Hurrah. In all, it took me over six hours to get from Brighton to Ipswich. It's a two hour drive, and should be 3 hours by train. But about 70% of my journey was by bus. From Brighton I was squeezed on a double decker with my rucksack on my knees, and then from London I was sat in front of two people who smelled and sounded like drunk tramps. And I felt really really ill. But I made it back eventually, and the cats warmed me up as I sat and told mum all about my plan to dye my hair blue.

So it was a really nice weekend, if a little cold. I took three more rolls of photos, so I've got four films to develop when I get everything set up. Should be good. But my moods were really random, and I said some regrettable things again. It's really distressing to be in that situation, because I was aware of what was happening, and yet couldn't do anything about it. Old day revisited, really. Except it doesn't last nearly as long any more. I need to keep control of myself more when it does happen though, or else I'm going to seriously offend people.

I hereby issue a sincere apology to anyone who reads this, who has been adversely affected by my moods ever. I really don't ever mean to hurt or offend anyone, just it's sometimes out of my control. And I seem to do it to those I care most about, which is a bit paradoxical. I'm getting better, I'm sure you'll agree, and I still feel there's more to come. I promise I'll make it up to you.

As promised, here is me as a Houthakker:

And here is the devastatingly pretty Fay; a real Belle of the Ball. I could happily live inside this photograph and the moment I took it.

Scroll down for an update I just added

If there's something I have a habit of doing, it's self-destructing. And putting my large feet in 'it'.

I don't really know what to say about what's going on in my head, really. I was laying in bed with it all bouncing around and decided it might be an idea to write it down on here. But now I don't know where to start. I guess with another habit of mine; making a mountain out of a molehill. I make too much of simple things, and it gets out of hand easily. My affections for Fay are the current mountain. Usual person goes thus: meet a really nice girl, get to know her, let things progress as they should. Ian goes thus: meet a really nice girl, go through self-loathing period because she couldn't possibly like someone like me, get over that and spend some awesome quality time together, get to know her, scare her off with depressive moods borne from self-loathing because she couldn't possibly like someone like me.

It's all so melodramatic, and it seems to be something I can't stop doing. Rather than get on with my things, start training for my run, setting up my dark room, learning my languages etc. I opt more for the introversion and self-hatred approach. Sit me down with a pen and some paper and tell me to write a list of my good and bad points, and I'll struggle with the bad points. I'm a nice guy, no two ways about it. But for periods of time I don't grasp that, and wonder why people smile at me, why they were ever nice to me, and convince myself that they're just secretly having a laugh at me. People laughing somewhere as I walk past, must be laughing at me. Stands to reason. Who are they? What are they doing? I don't fucking know, but they're laughing at me. I've worked really hard on this feeling, and it only lasts a few days at a time now, rather than months as it did previously, but in those few days I can destroy any happiness I might have built for myself. A good, meaningful friendship with someone I feel like I've known for much longer than the more accurate six months? No trouble, just give me my phone and sit back. Ian will take care of the rest. No fucking messin.

All I want to say right now is:

BOLLOCKS!

Because that's what it all is. There's no need for any of it, it's completely irrational and unjustified, and it does me a deal of harm. The one positive from this is that I've stopped taking the frustration out on myself. No more broken hands or scissors in the arm. Just plain old deep breaths and getting away from it. With any luck, in a few months' time, I'll be down to one day per month of this. Who knows what luxuries lie ahead? Certainly not me.

Current plan: see the week out and head to Brighton for drinks and laughs with Cathy, Cara and Chris. Allow myself to let go of it all, and just enjoy some time with no pressures. After that it's back to work, and when I'm paid I'll start my darkroom up. Next week I'll re-begin my training, and also put aside one hour per day to language studies. I'll do a couple of things I've always wanted to do but never dared, and maybe have another weekend somewhere, then it's christmas. And then I get my test. I think I'm going to struggle in the festive season, though I think I'm going to be going to see my soon-to-be-new-nephew-or-niece, which will be super-good. Also see a bunch of friends too. Would be lovely to meet up with Fay, but I'll have to play that one by ear.

Maybe something more cheery soon.

* - according to Altavista's Babel Fish Translation Service

Andrew and I drove down to London today. Well, Andrew drove and I directed him. I've been suffering a nasty virus and wasn't feeling too lucid today, so didn't fancy the drive. We were on a mission to achieve possibly my greatest bargain of all time. We picked up a near-complete darkroom setup for �60. Apparently it's all worth around �350, so I'm a happy chappy. Just got to find somewhere to set it up and something to black it all out with and I'm away with my photography lark properly.

On the way down, I went to pick up a parcel from our local friendly City Link "office". It's a warehouse amongst a maze-like industrial estate the other side of town. And I cringe when I think about having to go there. They tried to deliver a package to me on thursday, only I was at work. So I called them up and asked if they'd hang onto it so I could collect it after work the next day. Simple enough. Only when I arrived the next day I was told that I hadn't actually phoned in, and the parcel was sitting in a van, which tried to deliver it again. And they wouldn't deliver it on the saturday because it was a standard delivery. So after a moment's blank stare, I suggested I pick it up the next morning (today) and the man said "ok". I don't think he could have been less interested. So I turned up this morning and stood in the tiny little reception, whose door wasn't able to close so it was freezing. Then two hapless morons dealt with the chap in front of me in the queue then fucked off, leaving me and andrew standing there daring each other to ring the bell. A lady was standing behind us and was very entertained by our amusing quips. We've been there a few times, and one of the guys always asks "did you phone up?" as his first communication. So we wondered aloud why he was so keen to know. Maybe they have new phones and he wanted to know if we were impressed. "Clear picture", as my ever-astute brother said. So when he eventually came back and I handed him my card, he said "did you phone up?" and I replied "yes, it was very good". He missed the joke by a mile and went off to do christ-knows-what, but seemingly everything but look for my parcel. He came back and said "when did you call?" and I replied "thursday, and I was here in person yesterday". Without a word he turned away and dug around til he found my packages. During this time, quite a queue had formed, and andrew and I learned that not one of the others had "phoned up", which pleased us. It would piss the moron off and he'd be confused. Nothing funnier. I toyed with the idea of giving him andrew's driver's licence for my ID, but figured I might aswell get it done quickly. So we left. What a fucking farce. How they stay in steady business is beyond me.

We went to IKEA on the way back too, and walked around in our corduroy jackets. Andrew collected little pencils, and we raced each other on office chairs. We also got chatting to the lady on the checkout because her son lives in Ipswich and works for Hadleigh council. So she told us. I've a feeling he may have a different career according to who she speaks to. But we played 'guess the postcode' on a survey sheet they had, and argued over wither the TN postcodes was Taunton or Tunbridge Wells. A little research just now has proven I am the victor. And Andrew's shit.

So I'm now a Lomographer! My shiny new Colorsplash camera arrived yesterday with a bunch of films. Funny, really, because they recommend the 200 ASA films. Yet the camera comes with a 400 in the box, and the other ten I ordered from them are 100s. Baffling. But I've spent today taking some random pictures just to see what happens. I've also eBayed myself some developing equipment and pretty soon I'll be setting up a little dark room somewhere in the house and processing my own life commentary! I've wanted to do this for years now, and I'm relishing it. Bloody relishing it!

All sorts of ideas are in my head, fermenting a little into export strength. I have this artistic tendancy in the form of ideas. But I'm clumsy and a perfectionist (not the best combination) and have difficulty making things happen. So they'll probably all just evaporate away and leave me with a sludge mess in the bottom of my brAin.

But there was a beautiful sunset today, on my way home from work, so I took a bunch of shots of that from various places, and a couple of self portraits, just to use the film up really. Probably won't work properly but we'll see. How exciting!

You may or may not know that I currently work as a biology technician in Chantry High School, Ipswich. Or, rather, as the biology technician. At the moment, year 11 are out on work experience, meaning that of eight lessons this morning (two lessons each for four biology teachers) only one is being taught. And Mr Russell didn't need any equipment, so I'm left with nothing to do. Which seems to be an ever-more-common occurrance here. But next week OFSTED are in, so I'm waiting for the deluge of requisition forms to start hitting me. They'd better get a move on, too, or else I may have to start rejecting them for being too late.

So anyway, I'm using one of the teachers' laptops, and abusing the school's all-encompassing wireless network. I'm not doing anything dubious at all, just wasting time and being paid to write this. I've just been handed a requisition for tomorrow, with the message "This is what I could gather from his garbled message". Basically, the deputy head who's in charge of learning support has two science lessons every week with the delinquents from year 10. And because he's a biology teacher I get to handle his requisitions. And he's very vague. The sheets says "tubing and ball - peristalsis. +starch/iodine. + benedicts/glucose. - water bath." I don't even know what peristalsis means. This is the kind of help I get from my learned colleagues.

Last weekend. I said about my time in London with Gemma, that was very relaxing and good fun, good exercise and everything. Then I left London and drove to Birmingham. Or tried to, anyway. All the other car owners in Britain and northern Europe had other plans, however, and decided to all drive slowly along the M1 between Watford and Coventry. It took me two hours to travel 25 miles, at which point I left the motorway and made my way to the A45 instead. So then the next two hours took me the rest of the way, some 100 miles. A tad more like it, if you ask me. In all, my journey from North London to Sutton Coldfield took me 4 hours and 50 minutes. 290 minutes. Look it up if that means nothing to you, you'll see it should have taken less than half that time. But I got to Sutton and ate some lasagne and drank some wine, watched Shaun of the Dead and went to sleep. The next day I headed into Birmingham, leaving myself plenty of time to get through the busy city centre. Ha. It took me 25 minutes, which is the fastest you can reasonably expect. The motoring world is a very odd place indeed. So I arrived in Selly Oak, my haunt of old, and rang the four doorbells on Fay's front door, and hugged her and had a cup of tea. Hurrah. I was happy - I'd got to her house easily, found a parking space no trouble, and she was in. Nothing could be better.

I'd booked us two hours in Rich Bitch, the local practice and recording studios, so we went there and messed around for a while. Fay's got a lovely singing voice, so I wanted to just sit and listen to her for the two hours. but I chipped in a bit too and added a subtle drum line to a song she co-wrote years ago. It goes "I wanna do something crazy, like jump into the sea. I wanna do something crazy, the question is would you jump in with me?"... she sang those lines and my mind said to me "in an instant, yes.". And I can't even swim! So it was good fun in the practice room, I played some things I couldn't remember well, and we sort of made up a little ditty about Fay's shoes, and all was good. Afterwards we went and chatted with her housemates, and then went for a curry. It's something you simply have to do if you're in Selly Oak. And if you are, and you do want a curry, I recommend you go to the Dilshad restaurant, on the Bristol Road just up from Tiverton Road. It was really nice when I was a student there, and if anything it's just got better. I'd have to say it was probably the tastiest indian meal I've had in my life. I can't very well put flavours into words, but the combinations were subtle, fresh, and perfect. You could taste everything that was in it, which I think is the mark of a great sauce. Fay enjoyed hers too, and thanked me for introducing her to the upper end of the Selly Oak curry houses. Fantastic. Then we talked until about 5am and went to sleep.

Saturday! It didn't really start for us until about 2pm, after we pretended to call in sick to work and went back to sleep. After that we went into town to purchase goodies for a halloween but not halloween party that evening, and to sort out our costumes for said not halloween party. I being the visitor had the toughest part, because I had to work around what I'd taken with me. But a quick trip to Primark yielded a red tartan-like shirt, and the market produced a cheap wooly hat. I added to that some skillfully made cardboard facial hair, and a beautifully crafted axe, and I was a fully fledged lumberjack. Though when I had prepared, and looked in the mirror, I decided I looked more like a fully fledged gay lumberjack. So I adopted a poor dutch accent, took it in my stride and promptly toured the house recommending everyone "feel the weight of my chopper", as "it is a finely balanced tool". Surprisingly, this distracted people from my poor costume. That, and the tag hanging from my moustache saying "100% pure handlebar"... To top the effort off, I wore the traditional tree-felling footwear of my new Converse boots.

The party was ace, everyone there was really nice and friendly, and with the help of some particularly potent punch I soon forgot that I was a complete stranger to them all. At various points, I was haggling pimping rates with a man in a suit, scything safe passage through crowds for a particularly short girl, taking random photographs with someone else�s camera, trying to persuade a bobsled team to sit in their sled, and wandering around Selly Oak completely off my face being sick in unknown locations. I vaguely remember approaching a front door to attempt re-entry to the party, only to notice in time that it was the wrong house number, and in fact the wrong street. Luckily I have a very reliable booze scooter and in my semi-consciousness I somehow returned to the correct house in the correct street, and fell asleep. At least, I assume that�s what happened. The morning came, and with it came the essential post-drunkard checks. Firstly, I wasn�t naked. A good sign. Secondly, the girl next to me was Fay. Equal measure relief and delight. Thirdly, yes, I did need to get to the toilet quick. So then I spent a few hours recovering, playing random music on guitars and iPod with Milo, officially the nicest bloke in the world. Ever. Then I drove home, probably still very drunk. I took two wrong-turnings and was also diverted to Walsall due to road works. Still managed to get home in under three hours, and promptly fell asleep...

Here ended my weekend, and the next morning I was back at work, feeling very weak and depressed. In my half term week I came to realize that I�m really rather happy being me at the moment. I don�t miss being with Helen any more, just miss her as a friend, and I was at my happiest and most optimistic that I can recall. I think mine and Fay�s friendship took on a curious dimension, in that we seemed to have known each other for ever, but prior to my arrival at her house we�d spent less than six hours in each other�s company. Took me a couple of days to get my head round that one, since it�s not something I�ve known before. But it was wonderful, it really made me feel more alive than I�ve ever felt. Tribute to Fay�s personality, I think. She seems to have a similar effect on a lot of people. I�m not playing down our friendship, just not letting myself get carried away with it all. Apparently several of her male friends have referred to her as something akin to a sister lately. I told her that I couldn�t possibly be an elder brother to her, because an elder brother thinking what I was thinking is strictly illegal in this country.

I�ll post a picture of me as my Gay Dutch Lumberjack (or Treegef�llerer) as soon as I can. It�s currently still in my camera.

...there's a service I can render...

Went and saw Alfie last night, starring Jude Law. I was going to say "went to see Alfie last night, with Jude Law..." but though that might imply a bit much.

Anyway.

It's not a bad film, but is a bit odd. I think it's probably best if you've seen the Michael Caine original first, which I haven't. I remember watching a little of it, but getting bored. Like Get Carter. Couldn't stomach it. What a blasphemist I really. It's one of those annoying films that got me thinking though. He basically swans through life going from girl to girl, as anyone who looks like Jude Law invariably would do. But then has a sort of break down where he realises that it really isn't the best way to do things, and decides he wants to settle down. Don't know what part of it got me thinking about myself, but I felt a bit odd sitting there in a real transitional stage of my life watching a film about a guy who feels like he's fucked everything up. I felt properly like that about two years ago, nothing seemed to be going right, I only just managed to graduate, and I couldn't see past the end of the day. But now I'm so optimistic in comparison. I've been having real ideas about long-term projects, and even a little spat of possible unrequited love isn't getting me down! I can appreciate if this doesn't mean much to you all, but it's a big deal to me. I've never ever been good at just getting on with things. I've always had to run everything through my mind to the point of insanity (frequently with the insanity) until I can't stand it any more and sort of snap. But this time, that took me three days. How good is that of me? And now I'm thinking clearly, philosophically, confidently. I know how things stand, and the one or two that are uncertain aren't getting to me because I know they're nothing to worry excessively about. All in all, I'm beginning to feel that I'm properly getting back onto the right track. Touch wood.

So yeah, sorry about my soliloqy there, it's as much for my own therapy and benefit as for your information. That's if you're even still reading at this point. I suppose efficient paragraphing would be a good habit to get into, that way you can skip paragraphs, confident that the new one will have started in a sensible place with a new topic. We'll have to see about that, I am a scientician after all.

I got a text last night from Helen. I really hope that she and I can regain our friendship, we were great together. But she said "I'm going to see Hanson at Shepherds Bush bush bush bush". For those of you who don't know about Only Fools and Horses, the bush bush bush bush bit comes from the theme tune to that (great?) british institution of a comedy. And Helen found it funny every time I went to a gig at the empire there. I replied with "I wouldn't worry too much, I hear modern therapy techniques can help with most problems". I hope she smiled at that. Hanson, though? For serious? Probably.

Oh yeah, last night. Gemma's back for the weekend, she fancied some time away from her prison-esque halls of residence in Hampstead. So we met up and saw a fillum. I'd almost forgotten about my UGC Unlimited card, I haven't used it for ages. I think I should go and see films on my own, because I love films and pay �9.99 a month for the privilege. But we saw Alfie and then walked back to mine, had some tea and then fell asleep! Cute, you might say, but it was amusing. Her dad woke us up phoning her to see where she was. Her reply of "I'm at Ian's, we fell asleep" probably instilled a great confidence in him! heehee. So I drove her home at 1am, and came back and was out like a light until 11 this morning. So much sleep, so little to do today! Think I'll go into town for a few things after lunch. Bacon... mmm...

I'm blabbering now. I have a story to tell later, about two people I heard about the other day. It's quite a nice story. Stay tuned.

This update was brought to you in association with Graham Coxon and Ruth.

I'm going to get around to a nice big update this weekend. It's in my mind to do it, I promise, and there are plenty of goods to tell. But briefly, I'm a chirpy soul this week. My time away was really good for me, in many ways, and has given me plenty of things to think about, in a very good way! I finally realised that I've moved on from Helen, which was quite an amazing thing to know. So for about four days last week I was pure 100% Ian Hazon, and I loved it. I think Fay enjoyed my company then too, though I ran out of energy after a night of heavy drinking and was slow to pick up again. But rest assured, the Ian of old is peaking through the cloud that's been over him for the last god knows how long. With one small change I think I'll be in the best state of my life. But even if that doesn't happen, things will still be the best for ages. A bit cryptic, probably, but then I don't want to injure sensitivities by saying too much right now.

Ok, I'm off to bed because I'm tired. I'll make sure I write you all some lovely stuff in the next couple of days. Bye for now -x-

Hello to you people out there who can read, and bollocks to those of you who can't. If that was read out to you, I apologise.

I'm currently sitting in the Gordon Museum in the Pharmaceuticul Science department of Kings College, at London Bridge, London. There are many glass display cases containing human body parts of various degrees of dissection. For example, behind me is the right hand side of a jaw, torso and arm, with the skin peeled back from the shoulder to the hand, revealing the muscles and tendons etc. Not the most appetising of sights, but I'm off to get some lunch shortly. I'm waiting for Gemma to finish with a tutorial she's in at the moment. This morning I sat with her in two lectures on agonistic and antagonistic drug activity. Quite interesting, though of limited use to me.

Haha, it's half term! My first for 5 years, so I'm making the most of it. I drove down to the London on saturday, and have done and will do various things with little Gem, including a trip to the Tate Modern art gallery later this afternoon. Probably followed by a tasty meal somewhere. Tomorrow I'll drive up to the West Midlands, and to Sutton Coldfield. I'll dine with a couple of friends from school and then on Thursday I get to spend the day revisiting Birmingham! If you don't know already, I studied for my Chemistry degree at Birmingham University and so spent three largely happy years in the city. I haven't been back for a year or so, and I'm interested to see how much has changed. Will the Evening Mail vendors still have their characteristic selling calls? Such treasures as 'late night movie' and 'Mow'. What will the new Bullring be like? I was fortunate to see it in its original glory, and laughed with everyone else when I discovered the rotunda was to stay due to being a listed building. Oh, the irony! On a tangent, there's a tower called Muirhead Tower on the university campus, and it was designed with adjustable rooms on the ground floor. A series of pullies and rails allows the dimensions of the rooms to be altered as needed. The amusing and ironic thing is, that due to this unique feature the building has been listed. And due to the building being listed, the powers that be are not authorised to change the dimensions of the rooms! A self-negating piece of engineering. Brilliant. But anyway, twill be interesting to see the new bullring and go back to some of my old haunts such as tempest records, sound control, yo yo, cult clothing and Tescop Express. Though my spiritual home is Kebab Land, in Selly Oak. My teip will not be complete without a return to that institution of fresh naan and spiced lamb.

Of course, I'm mainly going to Birmingham to see Fay, and we shall partake in Rich Bitch studio time, and I'm told a fancy dress party. Quite what I'll dress as I'm not sure, but it will be interesting. Rumour has it a pirate. Then next week I get to go back to work and set up a room for an open evening. What fun. Should take me all of 30 minutes, leaving the rest of the day to be bored rigid. Though I do get treated to a lunch at the LEA's expense, of Lasagne, potato and salad. It's not all bad. Throw a banana milk into the day's festivities and you've got yourself a partay!

I recommend to anyone reading this that next time you're in London with a travel pass, you find your way to a Jubille Line station and catch a train terminating as Neasden. The announcements on the tannoy are superb.

Last night I went to a crap gig. It was overcrowded with twats, the support bands were abysmal, and I got hit when I was caught in the middle of a little fight. So I thought to myself "bollocks to this" and left early. Not something I like to do very often, but I was pissed off. Figured I'd have more fun walking in the cold wind than being hit by wankers at a shite gig. To be fair, Do Me Bad Things - the main band - were excellent. They have been each time I've seen them now. I never tire of the cowbell shenannigans of Hurricane Tommy, and Nicolai is ace. All good stuff really. But not quite worth a fist in the mouth. Oh, if you're concerned, don't be. I wasn't hit hard and the guy who hit me apologised after I hit him back. The weirdest thing about it was that he'd been so sedate throughout the gig, and then apparently randomly decided to go berserk. He nearly knocked a girl out, and her boyfriend (also a complete moron) belted him. Amusing to look back at really.

Aha, Gemma's back now so we're off foods hunting.

Read it and weep, fatso

I kid you not! This year my brother in law Nick ran and I thought 'why not?'

I couldn't think of a decent answer, so I've registered for the pre-registration part of registration. They'll email me when it's time to register. Then I get in quick as I can so as to get a number as low as I can!

Plus, this means I now have a year to train myself to be able to run for 13 miles...

In other news, I'm down in london next weekend, so will probably go and see Gemma. Which will be nice. She wants to show me the sights of Hampstead, which is quite an enticing prospect.

Haven't done much else lately, been feeling low and tired and all sorts. Am about to start reading Jane Eyre, my first proper classic! Hopefully this week will be the first of a new Ian. Hopefully.

I've submitted two tech requests about this page now, and they haven't responded to either of them. As a Gold member I should be entitled to a response within 48 hours, but one's been four days and the other 19 days. Really bloody annoying. I haven't changed anything in the code but it just doesn't load properly. And I don't know enough about webstuffs to debug it.

Arses.

Hello!

I'm now a proper science tech. This week has apparently been an absurdly quiet time in the biology department, so I've not had a lot to do. Until this afternoon, that is. The chemistry tech doesn't work on friday afternoons so I offered to help with their stuff instead. So while I was getting four practical sessions organised, ish, I was then called back up to biology because lo and behold they needed my help! So I spent two and a half hours running back and forwards trying to help out. Don't know if I actually achieved it, but I felt like I was actually earning my money.

Look at this!

Other than that I've had one tutoring session this week, which was fine, and cooked a nice roast dinner last night. I'm feeling really wiped out too, I think I've got some kind of latent virus or something. Just a cold, really, but I get them so rarely I like to call it a virus. Makes it a bit more special.

I'm getting a mixed bag of emotions from my friends at uni this past week. Gemma's just gone off and is apparently loving it in London. Rach is moaning about her housemates but I think they're lovely. She'd probably get bored if she had nothing to moan about. Fay's excited as a mad thing about everything, so I guess that means Birmingham's still an ace tinker town. And Helen's written to me to say she hates Northampton Uni. So there. Last year Helen went there and came back after two weeks. I hope she gives it more of a chance than that this year, I still worry about her even if it's like water off a duck's back. As for the others, well I think visitations are on the cards in the near future. I wouldn't be welcome if I turned up at Helen's door, but I bet I'd be greeted with a warm smile, hug and cup of coffee at Bournemouth, King's and Birmingham. I think they more than make up for it!

Last week Andrew sold a couple of things on eBay for me. I've gotten rid of a pair of hihats, and an old soundcard. Made about �90 in the process, which will enable me to get news batter heads for my drums, so they might sound a tad better. I'm trying to decide what to treat myself to when I get paid, too. I'm toying with the idea of getting a flashy graphics tablet. But the only thing that's useful for is drawing. And I don't draw. So there's not much point. I think it's going to be a bass guitar first month and an amp after that. Everything else I earn is going to pay my credit card bill...

Been feeling quite alone and insular this week. Today was better, but it's just the kind of week where I struggle to look in the mirror. Fay was lovely and phoned me, that cheered me up no end. Just wish I was nearer to my friends than stuck here in Ipswich. It's getting expensive, travelling round to see everyone. Ah well, if ever there was a reason to move...!

Remember, kids

I unleashed the Thunder Tank on the south of England this weekend. Although it didn't begin there...

(wavy lines)

Wednesday afternoon, and I'm running a few errands. Off to Tesco for some chicken and rices, the post office for CD mailings to the Yooessay, and Local Paperage for job-related advermatisations. All goes well, lovely chicken, first class post (hehehehehe....) and a nice crisp Evening Star. There are rarely any jobs that interest me in the local paper, because I need something a bit more than office admin and insurance sales, but not quite at the local marketing manager level. And Ipswich isn't a friendly place for the middle guy. The town for internal promotions, presumably. But this wednesday there's a job posted at my old school, they want a science technician until December! Excellent. At home I cook Thai green curry and write a letter of application.

Thursday morning, and I'm running errands. I drop my application into the school, and go for an eye test in town. My eyes, according to the optician, are in excellent health. Nothing to worry about, and my vision is better than above average. A stigmatism in each eye that's too slight to do anything about. From the optician I go petrol-hunting then back home to pack for a weekend away. Socks, pants, t-shirts and music. Basically. Among that I got a phone call from the school offering me the job I applied for that morning! Top Banana! I don't need an interview or anything because they know me, and I start tomorrow morning! Then 3.30 arrives and I'm back in town for the day's climax. Fay is coming to visit!!

I grow tired of writing in first-third-person so now I'm going to write in first person. Fay got into Ipswich about 4 and I met her in town, and we walked around and I showed her the town centre, all the differences of it and even impressed myself with Christchurch Park! So hopefully Fay was pleased with my town. We talked and walked and walked and talked, and joked and such, and it was really lovely. Then we came back here and ate chips, and played guitar, and I finished packing and took Fay home on my way to Bournemouth.

Down in Deepest Surrey Fay and I partook in musical discussions, and I was directed to her house, around an intimidating one-way system. I was sad our day had to end, but then most days do, and in my experience there are more days to follow, so it became a plan instead to make sure some future days involved Fay again.

I got lost on my way back to the M25, ended up driving through a little town and then turning round and driving back. I always get annoyed when I get lost, mainly because rather than doubling back and going the way I know I should have gone, I always prefer to try and guess my way back in a loop. Which is dangerous and not without failure. Read on for more!

Bournemouth's very easy to find, it's just down the M3 and through the new forest. But once there, it's just like any other town. By that, I mean I got lost again when I got there. I knew exactly where I was meant to go, just took the wrong exit on a roundabout. So I ended up driving through Boscombe because of my inability to turn round and take the correct exit second time round. Not to worry, I found Rach's place fine in the end and went in for coffee and biscuits and Brass Eye!

Rach is great, we just sat and chatted and watch Chris Morriss put the world to shame with his humour. I love that show. But I was knackered and can't really remember what else was done! Needless to say, I went to sleep and awoke the next day. I had to persuade Rach to show me Bournemouth, though, she's not the biggest fan. And I don't know why, it's a nice little town on the sea. I think it's more the fact that it's a town that is disliked. But we went to the Oceanarium and saw lots of fishes and turtles and sharks, and that was really cool. Except that the first thing you see is a tank of pirhana with a curved side so it makes them look four times as big as they actually are. Kinda freaky. From there we took lunch and mooched through the shopping area. Nice weather, lovely company, new town to me, meant a happy Ian! Back to her flat and we chatted with her housemates some more, they're very cool too, and I had to then drive to Southampton to visit Chris!

Very easy getting from Bournemouth to Southampton. Just up the road. But I got lost again when I got there, mainly because I took a wrong turning, and slightly because Chris gave me duff directions. But I ended up only taking 20 minutes to find my way again! And I re-fuelled too. Multitasking.

Cathy and Cara joined me in visiting Chris, and his housemate Georgie was there too, so the five of us had some foods and ambled to a pub to drink some fun and have beers. Which we did with spectacular success, enjoying games of pool and darts, and also a trip to the Shire, which I'm told is where hobbits live. So there. A return to chris and georgie's house saw us watching the Princess Bride while drunkard. Muchly enjoyable!

Saturday was a lazy day. We were tired and contented bears, so just watched telly, and played monopoly. And we played table football, something for which I have a hidden talent. I beat all comers, hands down, and remain the undefeated champeen of the world. Chris also decided to cook a roast for dinnering. He popped to the butcher and came back with some pork, and he did potatoes, carrots and runner beans too. However, when it came to carving we found he'd gotten the bacon part of a pig rather than the succulent roasting pork part. It still tasted wonderful, though, and we ate like hearty things. This was followed with monopoly continuation and more televisual viewage, before we decided a drink would be a nice thing. So we called Cathy's brother who also studies in Southampton, and he and his girlfriend met us for drinkies in a pub. Back to Chris's for sleeping.

Sunday involved a drive to Lyndhurst, in the new forest, and we walked in the trees and had a really nice time. I bought some honey mustard from a craft fair, which is absolutely delicious with cold roast bacon! We saw the oldest tree in the new forest, and lots of deers. I stalked the deers but something spooked them and the