There's something very 'Dawn of the dead' about getting off the tram in Croydon - no one really talks, if they do it's unintelligible; everyone's eyes are a bit glazed over; you walk slowly down the street in the same direction as 50-odd others. As Zombies don't have feelings, it's a bit hard to explain away the depressing nature of heading towards work, so I guess that's where the analogy ends.
I'm sick, again. My boss says she thinks I just need to get used to the 'horrible English weather'; this might be the case. It snowed on Friday, weirdly. No rain, but the temperature reached so low that when condensation finally dropped, it was white and fluffy and didn't last long at all.
Why didn't Charles kiss Camilla? He looked more emo at his wedding to Di. You have to give it to Cam's stylist though.
I got my first paycheck from my week long temp position, my first cheque with £ instead of R! Fleetingly, I toyed with the idea of framing it, until Ian reminded me that it's not much use that way, psssh.
This is a 
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