Today has been the first rainy day in around three weeks. It's something of a shock to the system, being able to leave the house and not immediately break into a sweat, to have to leave the house wearing slightly more than just a thin covering over my underwear. Perhaps wasn't the best idea to go out wearing my trainers though, as they have barely any grip left, and so I almost fell over a few times from sliding on the wet tarmac. But now I have shiny new trainers for such moments, and the gym. For yes, I have finally given in and signed away my soul to Virgin Active. How to find the balance between going when Simon and her won't be around and going enough for it to be worth it hasn't been figured out yet, but apparently they mostly go after work, and I have an off-peak membership so I couldn't go at those times, even if I wanted to. Hopefully all will be well and uncomfortable situations will be avoided, but that remains to be seen.

I had a meeting with a trainer there on Tuesday and we figured out a routine for me to follow. Basically I should go at least twice a week, anything extra will be a bonus. On these two visits, I will follow different plans. On both I do some cardio stuff and abs stuff. One time I work on my arms, the other on my legs. She says if I stick to it, all my lumps and bumps should be falling off within a month, provided I also go to the pilates and yoga classes I was planning on attending, and spend some time in the pool too. I have bugger all else to do, so with luck I might manage to do it. Plus they have a children's pool with a giant yellow duck slide which I badly want a go on, so that's incentive to go down there at least.

Rory's visit wasn't particularly exciting. We spent a lot of time bickering about whether we should go walking on Ilkley Moor. In the end he relented and we compromised on sitting in the park for a little while. The private exhibition viewing at college was very crowded but still fun. The Vis Com students had produced some fantastic work and I was, and still am, really excited at having got on to the course, at the chance of being able to make work like that too. Tomorrow I find out if I've passed my Diploma or not, and thus if I will be doing Vis Com in September or not, though it's fairly certain I've passed. Now I just have three months to kill until I get there. 21:14  

Someone please kill me. I am being forced by some fucker who also lives on my street to listen to various Phil Collins songs at stupid volumes. One of us is going to die, and I'd rather it wasn't me... (for a change) 18:12  

I know that the weather is being stupidly hot, and has been for a week or two now. And I know that unusual weather often causes people to act in ways they wouldn't normally. But even so, there's a bloke sat in the middle of my road. Drinking beer. In an armchair. 16:27  

Now for sale on Ebay: Bright Eyes knickers. If only they were my size... 23:24  

I am well and truly knackered. The heat seems to have reached unbelievable proportions and having spent all day in an ill-ventilated studio with under-floor heating (and no way of switching it off), I want to lay down and have someone feed me ice cream whilst I lounge in a cool bubble bath. However I sadly miss three important ingredients: bubble bath, ice cream and someone else. Though I do have some Lush bath bombs...

My exhibition is almost done. I have to shelf to attach to the wall, yes, another, and that is it. I got the tutor to agree to do it tomorrow for me so I wouldn't have to make the journey for such a small detail. Well, I say "small detail", without it my work would be sitting on the floor, so it is quite important, just not very time consuming. And "short detail" wouldn't have made any sense.

Regardless, what I have accomplished today is to attach great masses of tissue paper to a wall with the best part of a can of spray mount. I'm not convinced they'll stay like that for a week though, they were doing their best to free themselves from their sticky bondage after only half an hour. I have also hammered certain pieces of work into the wall. This was fun, though I did keep hitting my thumb and bending the metal pins. It doesn't really matter as my wall is adjacent to Julietta's and thus no matter how great my exhibition is, it's always going to pale into childish scribbles next to hers. Random fact: there doesn't seem to be a spirit level in the whole of the building. Bastards. Random fact 2: I got covered in paint. Again. 17:56  

I haven't been blogging as I've been busy, tired, depressed, or a combination of all three. I planned to write about Thursday's London trip far sooner than this, but life, as usual, got in the way. Well, playing Mahjongg, reading, and laying in bed wishing for a time machine did.

In short, London was fun, tiring, expensive, but a worthwhile jaunt. On the train down I played cards with Hugo and Alex, with the deck of Purple Ronnie cards my dad gave me. They have a bloke saying "arse" on the back. This makes me giggle. Upon arriving at Kings Cross, I managed to find Harriet, or rather she found me, as I last saw her five years ago and she's changed a bit. It was decided we were going to go to the Tate to see the Frida Kahlo exhibition, despite the weighty entrance fee, as it might be a once in a lifetime opportunity. We went via St Pauls, which provided plenty of photographic opportunities and we took full advantage of being able to look like the tourists we were. Quite bizarrely, Harriet bumped into her boyfriend in the grounds, who was sitting reading and eating a sandwich. We crossed over the millennium Bridge, which I hadn't heard of prior to this visit, and found ourselves at the Tate.

Harriet and I separated off from the rest of the group and went round the Kahlo exhibition on our own, and there certainly was a lot to see. There was eleven rooms full of works, overall, many of which I had never seen before, even in the many books about her which I've read. Being able to get so close to the paintings was a wonderful experience and made me appreciate just what a talented artist she had been. To know when to use strokes and when not to, the level of detail involved in each work (especially in Moses), the way she managed to make objects appear so life-like and luscious... I could go on. Due to its size, it took quite a while to go round the whole show, and I didn't feel as badly done to at having to pay ?8 to get in. Afterwards I desperately wanted a catalogue as it showed all the work on display and others too, which I also was unaware of. It was ?20 though and something I couldn't afford, no matter how much I desired it.

By this time it was half past two and food was in order. Due to neither me nor Harriet having a clue where we would be able to find something I could eat, and Harriet being rather hungry, and the Tate cafe actually having food it seemed would be suitable for me, we decided to treat ourselves to lunch there. Again this was a little pricey, but better than wandering for hours in a strange city in vain hope of finding something else. We sat and talked about many things, about me and how much better I am, about her and how much better she is, about my courses and my degree-to-be, about her degree-to-be, about her travels in Central America, about life in London, about the bizarre change in circumstances in her home town (a small, remote place near the Cumbrian coast) where wearing jeans with holes in will no longer mean you're chased down the street by a mob of teenagers throwing stones at you. Life is certainly developing.

It was after half past three by the time we left and managed to start making our way to the Plan B exhibition. It was quite a distance away and we had to endure a long Tube journey in the heat of the Underground. We found ourselves in Hammersmith, a place she had been once and I never, with only an old A to Z for guidance. Luckily we managed to locate it fairly easily and soon all that was stopping us was shyness. Managing to overcome feeling fourteen again, we went in. Overall I was a bit underwhelmed. Possibly because I had seen most of the work on display in the magazines already, and most likely because I had just come from an eleven-room Frida Kahlo exhibition. It was good to be there though, to have taken the chance to see it, and they had free copies of the magazine laying around too. We left and decided with the time left (it was going up to 5pm) we would have just enough time to go to Top Shop on Oxford Street. We hadn't bargained with the rush hour though. We caught a bus which took us down Kensington High Street (lovely), past Kensington Palace which had some kids playing sports in the grounds, and the Royal Albert Memorial, which I had never even heard of before. We got off at Hyde Park Corner and finished the rest of the journey on the Tube.

Top Shop was heaving. In the designer department downstairs I found a jumper which I had bought for a quarter of the price on Ebay, and there was a good selection of knickers too, I was pleased to see. I didn't buy anything in the end, though was some nice things. Somehow the time had rushed on and it was twenty past six, I had to be back at Kings Cross for quarter to seven. Where had all the time gone? It had flown by. Harriet and I bade each other farewell, promising that it wouldn't be another five years til we saw each other again and then we were on the train and heading home. I was knackered but happy. We had fit in quite a lot in the short time, but I wanted so much more. I wanted to go to all the museums and galleries, not just two. I wanted to go to Camden and Soho, to the parks, to so many places. Next time, I guess.

Saturday night I went to see Smog play at the Faversham with Robert Dane and Chris. It was quite dull, truth be told. A bit too country-ish for my liking. I did do amazingly well at coping though. It was very busy and I ended up sat in a different room, watching the performance on a video screen. I was quite proud of managing as much as I did. David was there too, and Amy. I didn't talk to him much, just chastised him for not replying to my emails, which he claimed he had never received. Afterwards, Robert, Chris and I were sat outside in the cool air and I managed to fuck everything up by asking Chris if he and Robert were together again or not. He went rather quite and said he didn't know and it wasn't really the place to discuss it. I don't know what made me ask, especially so crudely. I was expecting him to reply "Yes, of course" but got a totally different reply. We walked home slowly and after leaving Robert on the end of his road, Chris and I talked about it, with much apologising from me. We didn't really come to a conclusion.

So I fucked things up with Chris, who I barely know but quite like, I annoyed David by bugging him too much to mail me, I remembered how much I miss David and became depressed about not being able to see him any more, and I was feeling fat and horrible and lumpy and rather unattractive. All this carried over into Sunday and I spent the day being the most depressed I've felt in months. The oppressive heat hasn't been helping matters either. Why do I always fuck things up? It's a great talent I desperately need to lose. 10:20  

Today has been mental. I've been rushing up- and downstairs all day like a yo-yo, trying to find shelves, drill bits, missing tutors, artwork, Hula Hoops, chairs and other manner of assorted DIY implements. I have shouted at pieces of wood, painted them, begged them, attached them to walls, removed them, reattached them and sullenly stamped my foot, repeatedly. I managed to get more paint on the wall than myself this time, which is an improvement. I also managed to drop my work on the floor and in paint, meaning the corners of the mountboard are now as flexible as a piece of string and I had to use marker pen to cover up the paint marks. Then I got marker pen on the wall. I had to paint over that. See a pattern? But finally, by about 4pm, it was all on the wall, straight, and unlikely to be removed by mere laws of physics in the next few days. Thank fuck for that. Now I just have to do it all again next week. 21:37  

It seems there's a little rebellion going on about my comments about the fat man I had to sit next to on the plane. And here's what I think about what you've all been saying: I can accept people's differences, I like people's differences, that's not a problem, but it doesn't mean I have to like the exact differences either. I'm not gonna go round killing loads of fat people, but I don't have to revel in their looks. What it comes down to is tolerance. I'm happy to tolerate other people and their choices - I don't make everyone I know become vegan, I don't go Christian-bashing or anything. But if there's something that makes you feel physically sick, whether it's someone with a hairy mole, or someone with BO, or someone with whatever, you can't change how you feel about that. You can change how you react to and interact with that person, but deep down it's pretty bloody hard to change how you feel about it. So how is that any different to me feeling ill looking at fat people? I can't see that it is. I don't discriminate against them, I just don't want to sit next to them. And what you have to remember is that this blog is my personal thoughts. I say what I feel here (and at least I sign my name to it, unlike those of you who are hiding behind their anonymity). I feel that people have the right to be prejudiced if they wish, but what they don't have the right to do is to act on that prejudice. We are all entitled to believe what we wish. I don't believe that fat people are less worthy than thin ones. I'm happy to have a conversation with them, to be friends almost, but I don't have to like their physical looks. If you think less of me for this, then is that not a prejudice in itself? Anyway, enough. 18:58  

I like toast. It's a lovely, if addictive, item of food. And I can make it in my fantastic Frog toaster too. Earlier I was doing just that. Because toast cooks so quickly, and is eaten so quickly, I tend to consume it whilst standing up in the kitchen, waiting for the next batch to be ready (my toaster only has spaces for two slices, unfortunately). This involves a bit of meandering around, if I eat quicker than the toaster can toast. And tonight, as I was meandering in my usual manner, my gaze rested upon my plants, sitting on my windowsill. They were looking a little thirsty, probably due to this hot, humid weather we've been having. And so, whilst waiting for the toast to toast, I watered them, and went to water the ones in my living room too. Unfortunately I overwatered one of these, and excess liquid came oozing out of the bottom of the pot. Normally not an issue, it is with these plants as they sit on top of my computer desk and thus risk destroying my whole computer and even my house if they get a little too excited. Realising I needed to move the plant before it dripped all over my electrical equipment, I moved it onto the weighing scales bowl which is sat on my desk, as I've been Ebaying clothes recently and needed it to measure how much to charge for postage. This still left the problem of the overflowing saucer of water which had been beneath said pot. I very carefully grasped it and slowly eased it towards myself, so I could pour its contents back into the measuring jug they had just been released from. I was doing well, the water was swaying but wasn't breaching the sides of the saucer, when the smoke alarm went off. My smoke alarm is a little hyperactive, and there wasn't any smoke around, my toast wasn't even near burnt, but its sudden exclamations made me jump. The water in the saucer tipped, went all over the desk and my diary and papers. Then it flowed back the other way, poured all over the floor and down my trousers. Bloody typical. I rushed the rest of it into the jug and ran for the kitchen roll, trailing wet footprints into the kitchen. Goddamn plants. Good job these trousers weren't clean, my only solace. You may all laugh at me now. 19:50  

Home at last, then. The flight was uneventful, except my seat being repeatedly encroached upon by the obese guy sat next to me. It was sickening. He hogged the central arm rest too, well he could barely not, really, so I had to make do with clinging onto my one arm rest and my book instead. It was a very good book, very humourous and enjoyable and damnit Rory, Hunting Unicorns isn't bloody chick-lit, despite, *cough*, it being on Richard and Judy's 2004 Recommended Summer Reads. OK, it might be marketed at women but that doesn't make it chick-lit. There is substance there, it's not just shagging and suntans and shopping. I'm now reading The Time Travellers Wife, which he'll probably tar with the same brush, but if I enjoy them than I think that that's all that matters. He can read his stupid incomprehensible novels which make you feel after half an hour that a rendezvous with a hungry rotveiller would leave you with more hope, joy and happiness at being alive, and would certainly be less brutal to the self.

No college today, all the tutors are marking work so I don't have to reappear until next Monday for The Exhibition Hanging. I'm informed that masking tape, craft knives, pencils, measuring tape and good, old British hard labour are the necessary tools for these three days, followed by a jaunt to London to see Harriet, whom I've not seen in 5 years, and a lot of time in bed, I suspect. As regards the other exhibition I have to hang, yes, I have too many of them, hopefully we can get most of that out of the way in the remainder of this week, as I won't be able to do any next. Then, once all that is done, one more week waits in which the moderator views everything and verifies the marking, we make finishing touches, and, TA DA! The Private View! Rory's coming over, we spend the weekend negotiating our way into and out of various seductive embraces with each other, and on Monday, it opens to the public (the exhibition, not our embraces). I'm enlisting everyone I can get my hands on to come: Rory - obviously, Simon - likely, my parents - definitely, Robert Dane - possibly, Phil & Tom - possibly, Tamsin - likely, David - maybe, people from SHIP - perhaps. And when all that's done, we have to take it all down again. It never ends! 21:40  

Life is going slowly here, though it seems the week is rushing by. I've been spending my days mostly reading and the evenings reading or watching DVDs. I'm currently working my way through Rory's copy of The Star Fraction, which is interesting and what have you, I just don't understand what they're on about or what's happening. Ho hum.

Yesterday I went for a long walk up to the Ulster Museum via several charity shops. I came away with London: The Biography, Hunting Unicorns and a wrapped copy of the new Modest Mouse album, all for under £9. A good day's shopping, methinks. I then wandered for a bit and found myself in the city centre. I ended up drooling at lovely but expensive clothes in several shops, including a jumper from a label I hadn't heard of before, Scrapbook, and who don't appear to have a website. Today's plans include finishing my book and eating food. Start out easy, then you can never be disappointed. 13:13  

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