A cold coming we had of it

Gosh. So, I owe D my life, soul and anything else, mortal or immortal, that he should care to ask of me. For indeed, he spent three hours or so helping me move out of my room. How can I possibly have amassed that much stuff? I mean, the books I understand - they breed on my shelves (I try gender segregation, but then what do you do with anthologies, or books by Anon.? Tricky.) But what was I doing with three different tubes of foot lotion? Or five types of laundry-washing bag? Never mind the three bags full that went to the charity shop on Wednesday, or the two bags of food I left with D, or the box I have in storage in College, or the crockery which is on my shelf in the MCR dining room. I think I need to downsize. A lot.

The journey back was uneventful, though of course Wales is immediately rainy and cold (I’m not kidding!) And we managed to unpack the hire car with little trouble and only minimal sticking my arse out into the street to get stuff out (see photo - cheers, mum.) The damn thing was like a tank (car, that is, not arse) - though D, being American, thought it was quite dinky when he saw it.

And, having left the cultured sophistication that is Oxford, I return home to find that Swansea has not changed at all in its sense of propriety and moral values, as evidenced by the headline of the local newspaper. Good to be back.