30.03.05..5:18 pm

This morning I had a cup of the most repellent coffee I�ve ever tried to make myself drink; all dregs and syrupy from having sat on the heater too long. One of those coffees that milk do nothing for, rather makes it taste like milk that�s turned to yoghurt. Speaking of milk turned to yoghurt: I came home on Monday for the first time in about three weeks because Lula and Irene have sped off to sunny Spain and because I wanted to show it off to Zanna and Boj* and opened the fridge door to find it teeming with slowly rotting forgotten perishables. I also found a peculiarly smelling Jar of Something in the cupboard. It has no label, so it will remain the peculiarly smelling Jar of Something. Here is a list of what is now sitting in my bin:

Sweet potato (three)
Leek (one)
Assorted Onion (Spainish � one; Red � two)
Brown Chestnut Mushroom (four? possibly?)
Aubergine/Eggplant (half used, almost unidentifiable)
Kiwi (one)
Pint Milk (so old it had turned to BUTTER.. or at least turned YELLOW as well as SOLID)
Broken/Mouldering Baguette (three pieces, shapes various)

Fortunately I brought some supplies up from ButtFuck Nowhere South London. My fridge is NOW stocked with:

Spinach
Whole Milk
Soy Milk
Brown Chestnut Mushrooms
Sweet Red Pepper
Red Onion

*This isn�t really a footnote so much as a section all unto itself:

Zanna came from Sweden and was here for SIX whole days! Not very long, but seeing as in the grand scheme of the past three years this is the third time I�ve spent any time with her and for two of those years I�d not seen her at all, this is huge! And she brought Boj. Boj (a mutilated �Swedish� way of spelling �boy,� rather than his real name being �Bodg�) is German an absolutely lovely. He stayed at mine for an extra night because his flight to Munich didn�t leave until 8am this morning.

Their visit itself was way too short and I hardly got to see Zanna at all because she stayed mostly with her brother down in Brixton. But Monday afternoon we went for an S&M in Angel and stuffed ourselves silly, and then I took them back to mine and we nattered and chattered and generally got to know each other�s boyfriend, and THEN the ice cream van came. At the sound of it M yelped for joy and scarpered in hot pursuit of ice creamy goodness. Which meant the rest of us were left scrambling to grab coats and camera and chase after him with deliciousness on the brain. A mad dash was made to the blue and yellow and chrome beacon of all things delightfull, but we had to throw small children and the gansta boyz who frequent the court yard of my council estate (It�s mine dammit!). Sadly, I was so wrapped up in taking pictures of them all slurping and nuzzling their way through their cones that I forgot to buy myself one, so had to sneak nibbles and licks from M�s. He frowned a lot, but I don�t think he minded that much.

After walking through Clissold Park, giggling at dogs with floppy ears chasing wading birds, and gawping at a group of people fiddling with video cameras and posing a lot in the daffodils, we wandered back into Angel and bar-flied two couches to beer and whiskey ourselves on. Roars joined us too which was fabu: I�ve seen him three times in three weeks! What madness IS this?? Zanna and Boj left to run down to Brixton to pick up her bags (she stayed at mine while I had to stay in Brockley for reason�s I�ll get to in a sec), M left to watch Snow White at the Garage*, which left Roars and I to prop each other up and slur far more than is ladylike or gentlemanly and generally behave like a couple of piss heads.

* Let it be known that SNOW WHITE, who are getting oodles of press right now and will shortly be FEATURED in NME are fuckwipes. They are utterly awful, regardless of whatever accumulation of trendappeal they�re garnering. The only decent thing about them is the drummer. The rest of it is pathetic posturing, drawing ironic slogans on white t-shirts with which to scoff and guffaw at the rest of the world, and throwing words around like paedophile, sex, suck my cock. In fact, Paedophile, Sex, Suck My Cock is, I think, the name of their new single. Wankers.

Whatevs. The reason Zanna and Boj came back up to Stokey and I had to haul my arse back down to Butt Fuck South London is that on Tuesday morning at 8.50am I had a breast examine at Lewisham Hospital. For week�s I�ve been feeling like someone�s bouncing a paddle ball off the inside of my breast, and other than complaining and enforcing some eXtreme Boob Massage before bed (which M groans and bitches about until he gets started and then I spend the next hour mopping up puddles of drool), I�ve done fuck all about it. Until two weeks ago when it felt more like someone had lost the paddle ball and was instead attempting to dig a luge flume in the lymphnodes of my left breast. So I went to a doctor who had taken far too much valium that morning who recommended I go to the Breast Clinic. Which I did. At TEN TO NINE on a post-drinking-binge night. M, who had rolled in sometime after 3am, came with me and we spent the whole two hours trying not to burst into inappropriate laughter and mostly failing. Everything seemed deliriously funny. Probably because we were both delirious with a lack of sleep.

And so two breast prods and an ultrasound later, I have been diagnosed with Boobs of Stress. I am officially probably the only person you have ever met who had stressed herself, not into a cyst or clogged glands, but gristly breast tissue.

That said, I got no work done yesterday and I�ve been at work today which means nada on the research front yet again, added to the fact I�m already feeling pretty shitty, this day has turned out to be shit in general. The other reasons my day is poo:

1. I�ve started my period, which isn't bad, but makes me (case) sensitive
2.I just found out that I�m NOT getting paid for Easter Monday despite the fact I�ve been here for a year and a half AND despite the fact I�d have been working on Monday if not for the bank holiday which is SO UNFAIR
3. I�ve been looking up teaching training stuff and discovered I�ll have to pay if I start in September because I�m still not a resident which is bullshit because otherwise I�d be getting PAID TO DO it
4. I�m working on my CV right now and it's so pathetic I could cry.

ON THE OTHER HAND:

1. I got to wake up next to M�s boiling self this morning and snuggle happily into his shoulder
2. I got to walk around the flat na-na-na-naked because no one's home UNTIL FRIDAY (which means, huzzah! two whole more days of gratuitous nudity)(actually this pleased me so much this morning, I did a little naked dance in the kitchen while I cleaned my teeth)
3. Myra�s just produced some Mithay Chawal (sweet rice) for me to nibble - a Punjabi dessert - and man is it yummy!

You can make it too:

1c Rice
2/3c Sugar
1tbs butter
cardamom
saffron
almonds and pistachio

boil the rice separately in 3c hot water with three drops of orange colouring (this part is optional but Myra insists it�s shit without; when almost cooked (still a bit hard) drain it and wash the rice. In another pan, melt the butter; when melted throw in the rice, sugar and cardamom. The saffron soak separately in a tablespoon of milk. Cook the rice mix on very high heat for ten minutes until all the sugar has evaporated. Then put it on very low heat for about half an hour until the rice is fluffy and has absorbed all the sugar. When all that�s done mix in the saffron and milk with a fork (not a spoon). Leave in a pot (off the heat) for another half an hour, check after twenty minutes. Cut in the pistachio and almond in very small pieces.

If you get ANY of the timing wrong it�s ruined and you go immediately to hell.