I just went into the kitchen to make myself a tisane, and... i really don't want to go in again. It is just horrible in there, really it is. I know that absolutely none of that mess is thanks to me but that, i am ashamed to admit, is because so far i haven't actually cooked myself anything. I'm still living off flapjacks made before i left. But i'm down to my last few flapjacks now, so i won't last long. Especially given that, from time to time, i have felt the need to binge on flapjacks.

But i'm not supposed to be talking about my poor eating habits. (Which at least might make me thinner. Even on the bad nights i haven't eaten that many, and i've taken at least two twenty minute walks day: one into and one out of the university. In fact, today and yesterday have been the only days i haven't been in twice. And i'm sort of pleased to note how badly my most recent pair of jeans fit me now. I can pull them right over my waist, and grab huge chunks of material when they're where they should be. The only downside is that they have a tendency to slip down on their own as well, which is destroying the bottoms, now soaked and tattered from being walked on, and, if i'm not careful, exposes underwear and even, i fear, unsightly body hair. Also, where i used to have five unpleasant protuberances on my chest, (Two breasts, one stomach.) i now have five! Two breasts, one stomach and the edges of two sets of ribs! Not only have my fattest parts decreased, but now bone is even visible at some points. This really is rather an improvement.) I'm talking about their filthiness. Living in a flat with six straight boys appears to be turning me into a complete gay stereotype. At home i'm terribly untidy, disorganised and, well, not hugely obsessed with cleanliness either. But my room here is, well... tidy! It is, it really is. There are no clothes lying around on the floor, all papers are secreted in various drawers (with even a hint of organisation) and my books, all twice as many as there's actually space for of them, sit snugly on my shelves, arranged to fit my own personal map of how books live, much better than simple alphabetical order. I even hoovered my room today, the only person so far to have tried this particular appliance. The mop so far remains untouched as well. I shall just have to start wearing my flip flops to the kitchen. (I live barefoot in my room, of course.)

I have finally started Kate Atkinson's most recent books, Case Histories. I got it on my second day here, when i walked all the way down to the centre of Sheffield to visit my new local Waterstone's. I'm really enjoying it. I'm going to have to recommend Atkinson to as many people as i can while i'm here. (Weak ending, sorry.)