gemmapeter.co.uk

It’s Wednesday morning. I have some coursework due in at 4pm. I woke up at around 9am and considering the amount of alcohol I consumed last night I should either feel like a) like I’ve been bashed repeatedly on the head with a heavy object b) very sick or c) dead, but I don’t. I feel slightly tired but I guess that’s because I’ve only had 5 hours sleep on a lumpy floor.

In the case that I am actually dead and you are reading this there are some important things you should know, firstly I blame my death on Skippy. Secondly, Hell looks a lot like Plymouth. Thirdly, Hell’s text editor of choice is vim.

Rich didn’t fair too well, one sip of the stuff I was drinking (the sort of stuff that just tastes like burning) and he got stabbing pains in his side (poor Rich, I guess he’s not cut out for living the crazy life).