Michael Bublé is in my head at the moment. Another winters day...has come and gone away...I feel so alone...I want to go home. The phrasing in this song means the words from different verses and choruses can be interchanged so easily. I muddle them up all the time but it is such the favourite song for me.
It's snowing intermittantly today, hence the song reference I think. I was queued at the bus stop alongside visiting A level students here for the open day. They use the car park at my halls as a visitors car park you see. It's funny to think I was one of those last year. Though I did not do the 'come with you parents' thing. I went on my own on the train to Southampton and had a violent gut reaction to it. Much the opposite to the one I had to Bristol. Very positive. So I end up stood there, feeling smug at thought that I'm already here and let the huge fat flakes of snow fall into my hair, giving me twinkles and sparkles like an ice princess. Not for me the huddling with strangers under a bus shelter. Snow always makes me feel serene and I can just stand there in the cold for hours. Though snow here is rare as I was telling the bus queue. Something to do with the being by the sea they say.
I'm sat in the library at the moment people watching and chatting to Rob via email. I love to people watchhere, and perhaps when I have retrieved the books I need for this weekend I will go and do a bit of life drawing. A guy across the way from me is furively drinking his milkshake hoping none of the librarians will walk by. He is dressed as what is known in common British parlance as a 'chav' with baseball cap, pink polo shirt, jewllery in both ears and a cheap white jumper other the top. He would make a good sketch. All the creases in the clothing and the twinkle of the metal. The interesting people always sit in the special collections section.
Last night I slept on my furry blanket, under my duvet on my bed room floor. A hard core knitter, I was blocking a shawl, and it wasn't quite dry when I wanted to go to bed so I slept on the floor. Said shawl is happily ensconced around my shoulders, and was complemented by my seminar tutor for Historiography who happens to be a knitter. I feel all cobwebby and happy in it and may just have to knit another! Though sadly I have lost a stone from my favourite brooch and shall have to hunt around in my room. I think I know where it is though. Incidently, why is brooch spelt as such and not as broach? Sometimes English makes no sense. Hence why I never bothered to learn grammar. Hehe
I am going home tomorrow morning :-) Cheers all round please. Well I'm going to Rob's at least, which is practically home. Wunderbar says I.
Now to work and knitting and a nap I think.