2004-11-08..7:31 p.m.

So we had our little shindig at M's on Friday. Just a little housewarming party to make the place feel like home. And what a rolicking ramage of alliterative goodtimes it was - drugs, youth, breaking sinks off walls.. a proper little smashy-smashy bash that had the neighbours wishing we weren't. Nothing inappropriate was done or said by me (always good) there was no O Fuck hangover the next day (just a gorgeous brunch and a sticky barfloor vomity mess to clean up)

R has finally moved back to London which is great because now we can hook up for a drink after work and also because he can now meet M too, and I would be very happy about that. Though I would rather it be next week rather than this because I'm sodding sickly again. They sent me home just after one this afternoon. Thrust my coat and books at me and booted me to the curb saying, Don't come back til you're not germy. Germy. And left me there.

I nearly cried, but then realised it meant I could go home and sleep. Which is precisely what I did. So three cheers for germy sickliness! Huzzah!

I'd be at home still if it weren't for the stupid Izzys playing at the Metro tonight. I promised I'd cover it and that I'd take M along too. Not a bad group, reviewed their album in the summer. V Rolling Stone's circa 1968.

Right right. I'm slowly fading and it's only half7, must conserve energy.

****meep