Well here I am, back in a surprisingly sunny Lancaster. Procrastinating once more and avoiding yet another essay.

Broke up with Matt which I'm pretty screwed up about. More than screwed up really. Am having ridiculously swing-y moods. One moment I'm about to jump off suicide tower, and then later I'm alright. As time goes by I'm gradually being more fine than not, but the not times totally knock me for six. I'm not wallowing in sorrow, I've been out partying and having fun. I love life, I'm really grateful and happy for everything, it's just I also feel terribly sad sometimes. But that's life eh?


Anyway, I have less than 3 hours to write 2000 words before deadline. It's the history of a proton. I've named him Edward and I'm quite fond of the little bugger to be honest. He's had such an interesting life! From being present at the big bang, to part of a star that went supernova, around during the Earth's development, then swept into the water cycle where he travelled around a few times before being rained on some crops which went on to make flour and then bread.
Yes I'm aware that's absolutely ridiculous. What can I say? It's Unigay! All of the questions were completely atrocious, so I chose to write it in the style of a children's science book to prove a point.
Talking of proving Unigay points, our presentation is not so good. Our papier mache planets look more like deflated breasts, and Jupiter looks like that crap half-human-half-dalek from Dr Who last week. I'm going to be so embarrassed when we have to stand up and present it. God.


As for my creative writing, so far I have around 4000 words, and I need 8000. Christ. Still, I'm extending a couple of pieces, and I'll have to write some new ones. Bit of a bugger really.

Ah well, best get back to Edward and the rapidly approaching deadline. Sounds like a crap band.
God I feel so nauseous. I was quite surprised to have no hangover after the shenanigans of last night, however when I ate I suddenly felt awful. I think I'm going to stop drinking until I'm better, because the alcohol's compounding whatever's wrong with me. Balls.