Where was I? Ah, yes, on Saturday I did a bit more head scratching about Brightstar issues, and then went to a ceilidh near Earl’s Court - wearing my full kilt and rigout that was completed for my twenty-first last summer. It was really good fun - unnerving to be in a room full of rather fit women, with no where near enough guys to go around. Now if it had been held on a beach in the Bahamas, with even fewer guys around… Mmmmm….

Sunday again involved some lazing around, followed by climbing at the Westway again. I would say I’m getting better, but I’m not sure that my way of solving problems is a good idea. Quite often I ended up with only one good handhold, and needed to get to the next good one a couple of feet up. So instead of using more technically-challenging ones in between, I just use my reach and strength to haul myself up. So much for the three points of contact rule. Still, summer is a good time for climbing at the Westway, and Sunday evenings are remarkably quiet.

After Gary did a fairly good job of winding us all up with regards to the TV (’Well, he can live another day’ said another flatmate, ‘Just as bloody well, or I’d have killed him’ said I), we watched State of Play, 24 and This Life. State of Play is really good, but if you haven’t been watching it over the last few months I’m not sure whether it would work for you. It has sooooo many subtleties in charaters and events (and I in no way mean plot twists, which also feature aplenty) that I’m surprised it’s on TV - I would expect it to be a rather clever book. 24 is getting repetitive - just how many times can she be kidnapped over two 24-hour periods - but it’s still fun. And This Life is worryingly real sometimes.

Monday started off slowly (spotting a pattern yet?), with then a trip to College to remove the points from the Great Hall that I put in a while back and never got round to taking out. A quick drink at the Union before coming home to sort out the house a bit for the party. Wine, port, cheese and crackers, Malibu, far too many tracks on a playlist, and the potential for a future Monty Python evening.

And now, perhaps, for breakfast.