I'd better not be hearing it from anyone after this

My dad has been telling me for a couple of years that his basement is overrun with "you guys' crap." When he says this, he points at me specifically and says, "and like half of it is yours." This, to me, seemed improbable. But still, it was exciting to think that I might have all kinds of forgotten treasures under there.

Since most of us were going to be up here at once, Mom went out and bought loads of plastic bins (containers for you Brits) and trashbags. She put us under strict orders to get under there, go through our stuff, and put what we want to save in the labeled bins. She encouraged us to put as much as possible in the trashbags.

So last night I went under there and Mom and I looked through almost Every Single Box in search of my stuff. As we went, we started sections for all the other kids. Every time I opened something containing cheerleading paraphernalia I knew it was Jenny or Megan's, because in high school I chose to be cool and join the marching band. Our costumes were modeled on the Civil War uniforms of the Union troops. So watch Glory and imagine that it's me instead of Denzel Washington inside that uniform. Also imagine that it's like 10 times uglier.

We got to the very last boxes and were covered in dust, mold, and who knows what else before I realized that I only had three boxes of stuff in the entire garage. My brothers and sisters had between 5 and 10 boxes. I'm betting they burned all my stuff for fuel some winter. Here are some of the treasures I did find.

• Old journals from when I was 10, which I am terrified to read because I'm pretty sure they will all be about boys I had crushes on and such romantic milestones as the day my crush put his lips on the mouthpiece of my flute during band. I was pretty sure this was almost the same as or at least a precursor to making out.
• Letters from junior-high friends with whom I wish I'd stayed in better touch. Must try Googling some of them.
• My wooden jewelry box, containing much evidence of why I didn't date much during high school
• Old scrapbooks and pictures--more evidence
• A love letter written by an anonymous boy in 1996. So hah. Someone in 1996 loved me. I really wish I could remember who it was from.
• My two dried (and flattened) corsages from junior and senior prom
  
• My high-school graduation robe, which my mother wouldn't let me throw away
• A bag of trading pins from the 1997 National History Day competition, which my mother wouldn't let me throw away

I dunno why she took me down there if she wasn't going to let me get rid of anything. Maybe my three little boxes seemed to her a silent rebuke and now she's regretting all the burning.

I think I'll get a job at the Piercing Pagoda

Tonight Jenny & Ed & I went to Sullivan's Steakhouse in Anchorage on a gift card from my parents. The card was technically for Jenny & Ed because they are the favored children but they invited me along. We considered pretending that I was Ed's second wife but decided against it.

The food was good, even if I've probably contracted tapeworms from my filet mignon, which was not so much medium as rawish. It tasted great, but I swear the juice left on the plate started clotting. We also got the the Cajun crabcakes (recommend) as an appetizer with creamed spinach (recommend) and the Lyonnaise potatoes (don't recommend) as sides. Were too full for dessert but because I am a masochist I asked for the menu anyway. Bad idea. My stomach twisted when I read about the Banana Foster Bread Pudding, and when Jenny and I got to the description of the Peanut Butter Pie both our throats closed up and we had to shut the menu quickly. Of course, if we hadn't have been full we probably would have lunged across the dining room and killed people for that pie.

We wandered through the 5th Avenue Mall (the epitome of class) for a little while after dinner. In Nordstrom I coveted the entire table of Dansko shoes. I spotted a very pioneer/polygamist-looking top and almost made Jenny wet her pants when I held it up to me and asked, "Pa, is Mary really going blind?" Making her hobble off to the bathroom all scissor-legged is pretty much my goal in life. Ed threatened to leave because we were embarassing him, all hunched over and wheezing.

Good times, good times.

My new non-paid job

I spent a few hours today sorting books in The Dungeon. The library is having this massive book sale next month so the volunteers are going through all the for-sale books and organizing them by subject. I was in non-fiction, so it was stuff like Cookbooks, Hobbies, Outdoor Alaskan Manly Man Adventures, Chicken Soup books, and Bathroom Books. Turns out people like to read those Don't Sweat the Small Stuff books in the bathroom. I guess it's better than reading the back of the shampoo bottle.

It was my first day, but so far I like it. It's a cool library. All the DVD rentals are free and there's a cafe. You can take covered drinks anywhere in the library, which is good because hot drinks are pretty much the only consolation people have once winter hits. I got my library card and checked out two books (Labyrinth and The People of Sparks) and have requested two more (I, Coraline and The Undomestic Goddess). Also I took Bella Tuscany off the book sale shelf today and will read it and then bring it back before the sale. Yay for books!

Need to get cracking and start filling out new job applications. It's good that now I can put something in the "Experience" section that has the word library in it. I'm trying not to be too stressed, but I know I am because all my dreams are the stressed-out anxiety kind where I'm being chased and looking for things but not finding them and being eaten by Alaskan animals and other unsettling things. Mark Wahlberg was in one of them, only he was chasing me through a hotel and totally turned me in. Jerk. Brown-eyed jerk. And Ioan Gruffudd was in another for all of 5 minutes, but I'm pretty sure he loved me.

Darn straight. Ioan gets it.

The usual suspects

So yesterday I braved the singles ward--actually, make that singles branch, for that is what it is. In Anchorage they have a couple of singles wards because that's where people are going to school and working. In Eagle River (a smaller town 10 miles away) there aren't too many reasons for young single adults to be sticking around. Unless, of course, they are cool like me and want to spend quality time at Mom and Dad's house.

Sacrament meeting was about what you'd expect, just with more hair and fleece. There was the girl in front of me who kept nestling her head on her boyfriend's shoulder. There was the girl behind me who did that soprano descant during all the hymns and I believe I've already expressed my feelings on that. (Hate.) Right up there with people who sing the hymns in their mission language. Show-offs. So, you know, I was feeling pretty much at home.

Only then it got odd. I started noticing that people kept getting up and walking out of the chapel--and not just between hymns or anything, but during the talks. From the time I started keeping track I counted 7 people get up and walk out. And that was just in the first few rows. (I was sitting closer to the front, so couldn't see what anyone behind me was doing.)

Now, seriously. Unless you have a bodily function emergency that needs addressing right that second, there is absolutely no reason why you can't sit still for 1 hour. I realize that the speakers were dead boring, but that is so very rude. I don't know what they were leaving to go do--maybe make some phone calls or meet up with their friends in the bathroom or some other 7th-grade activity. Someone needs to bring the smack right down on this bunch of antsy-britchers.

Also, I don't know how well I'm going to do in this ward (branch). I mean, everyone seems really nice and I'd like to make some friends and do stuff. But as far as the guys go, I don't think anything's going to be getting started there, onenreason being that I don't actually do anything they would find impressive. It's not something I'm agonizing over, it's just sort of a fact. As my brother introduced me to some of the guys he would say things like, "And this is the guy who helped us drag the moose down the mountain." I don't do that. I am a boring person who would rather be sitting quietly watching a play or strolling through the tame English countryside where nothing can eat you. I don't want to be all at one with the mountains and the carcasses and the big loud outdoor toys. I accept that about me. Now I just need to meet others of my kind.

Two good pieces of news

And one baddish one: I had a post all written and my sorry piece o' crap computer froze up and ate it. Am reformatting the hard drive tonight, wish me luck with that.

Good news #1: I called the nice big Anchorage public library to ask about volunteer work. The lady I spoke with says that because of my degree and flexible schedule and all, they can probably work out a kind of residency-type program where I can get experience in the different areas I'm interested in. So go me! I'm going in on Monday morning to chat w/her and fill things out and get a tour of the place.

Good news #2: Decided to forget temporarily that I have no job and no prospects. I just bought my first piece of REI gear. Rejoice with me! I went down there to return the Chaco flip-flops that gave me unsightly stigmata-like wounds on my feet when I tried to wear them. Only those REI jerks wouldn't take them back because I didn't buy them at REI. That's completely beside the point, I think. Will have to go back when that guy isn't working and give them a different story. Was sulking in the clearance section when I saw this jacket reduced from $129 to $44. It's windproof, waterproof, breathable, and every good thing. So I bought it. I am now One Who Has Outdoor Gear.

It was raining today but I didn't go try it out. I'd just straightened my hair, which is a biannual event requiring time, effort, heat damage, and witchcraft. No way was I going to ruin all that by going outside. Plus I needed to look good because today was my first modeling gig. (That's right, I've finally decided to listen to all those people who come up to me like 20 times a day telling me that I should be a model.) My b-in-l Ed gave me a thrift-store outfit and told me to straighten my hair. The shoot was at the Eagle River bowling alley, which is pretty much the classiest place ever. It's sandwiched between the laundromat and a bingo hall. The photos should be pretty cool.

Job update

Will die alone. Alone and unemployed. Will have to get a job at Borders or Barnes & Noble where I can wander around and pretend I'm in a library. Will have to imagine that there are fewer people browsing the shelves, though, to make it convincing. And I'll have to pretend that one or two of them are completely crazy.

I heard back from two of the libraries I applied to. The SLC library sent a letter to Lady J saying that they would not be interviewing me at this time or ever. The Springville library (I interviewed with them on Friday) sent a very nice email but said no thank you. The third library didn't contact me but I can see from the county's website that they're conducting interviews now.

So. There you have it. Looks like I'll be in AK for a bit longer. I might as well start going to the singles ward here. And dressing head to toe in fleece. And shooting animals, which I will then cut up with knives and my teeth and carry the pieces home strapped to my back. My mom really wants me to go to Institute and take the Eternal Marriage class. She says it's because the teacher is so good, but I know what she's playing at. Also she wants me to meet this guy out here who drives a Hummer. And a Harley Davidson. And a something else. Cuz, you know, I'm all about those.

If I can get up the strength I may go down to the local library branch and ask if I can volunteer there. I'm betting it's the lack of library experience that's biting me in the butt. The library here is so nasty, though. My family says I'd better be sure to wash my hands before and after. And hey, even if they say no, they can't stop me from being there. And putting books in the right place if I see them in the wrong place. And asking people if they need help. And making book recommendations. For like 20 hours a week. And then I can put all those things on my resume.

Hah.

I'm not dead yet!

I'm really sorry that I've been AWOL, but I'm living in this very strange limbo world land. The house is full of family coming in and out, we've been running around to Anchorage and Seward, and I have absolutely no schedule. The blogging withdrawal is just as bad as the England withdrawal, really.

So here are a few notes on my reintegration into American society.

I'm wavering between an English and a Southern accent. Yesterday I answered a question by saying, "Yay-ep." Then I stopped dead in my tracks wondering if that sound had just come from me. I thought I was doing okay on the English vocab front--catching myself from saying things like "films" and "adverts" and "bin," but my sister Jen disabused me of that notion. "It's not so much what you say, it's how you say it." So yeah, I'm a mess.

Had pumpkin pie tonight. Heaven. And yes, Blackjazz, we do eat pumpkin pie. And we love it.

Watched House tonight for the first time in a year. Bliss.

Drove to Seward yesterday, which is one of the more beautiful drives in the world. Saw Beluga whales swimming in the bay, admired the turning of the leaves, and walked out to Exit Glacier. I am including pictures so that all of you sweet souls who keep using the words "glacier" and "Timpanogas" in the same sentence can understand why you must stop. Please have some mercy on my poor brains, which tend to leak out my ears when you say such things.


Had sushi today with Jen, Mom, and Banana. (That's what we call my grandmother because 25 years ago I couldn't say "Nana" right. Yeah, I'm a trend-setter. I can't believe she agrees to go out in public with us.) Banana stuck with chicken teriyaki and it was Mom's first foray into sushi. She liked it, so yay! It was all so very good. Because it's Alaska, lots of them incorporate salmon. The one on the left is a California roll with salmon baked on top. During the meal we heard this horrible screeching noise and then realized that it was a cover of "I Will Always Love You" playing over the sound system. It was one of the scarier things I've ever heard.

I've tempted fate long enough by writing. Any second now someone is going to interrupt me, I'm sure. So I hope everyone is well and happy!

Home Sweet Alaska

I survived the plane ride(s), barely, after the wonderful send-off I received. The jet-lag is just now wearing off, but there were a few times when I thought I would have to kill people. The less I say about that, though, the better. I'm home now and I'm freezing. Twelve hours in I was wearing fleece with gratitude.

This is the view from my parents' house, which is crammed to the brim with people. The wedding has had to be postponed for a little while, but everyone still came up and we're all having a big rowdy time. I've met my brother's fiancee and she is lovely and sweet. She also shoots fish in the head rather than catching them with a hook, which helps explain why she and my brother are perfect for each other.

Last night was my birthday dinner, with steak shish kebabs, Alaskan King Crab, and this amazing chocolate dessert made by Jenny. Dad got a massive tray of shrimp cocktail from Costco for the dinner. I went to Costco with them because I knew that it would help me reconnect with My People. And oh, it did. The sample lady was giving out bits of the Costco bakery's pumpkin pie, which, as you may remember from previous posts, is tire-sized and costs $6.99. I remembered that I am proud to be an American who buys Big Foods.



The Precious is, of course, as precious as ever. She's on this jewelry kick, and the second she saw the necklace my grandmother gave me as a graduation present she gave it a tug and said, "That's mine!" Little Baby Ethan is pretty much the sweetest baby on the earth. He makes friends with everyone and has this huge gummy grin.

I was worried about whether I would have a weird English-ish accent, but with my grandmother visiting from Louisiana I've found myself lapsing straight into Southern, heaven help me.

I had a job interview over the phone on Friday but I have no idea how I did. They'll make their decision this coming week, though. And now I'm watching the new Pride & Prejudice and hoping that the views of the countryside don't make me burst into tears. We'll see how I do.

*Blink*

So this is pretty much it. I have no idea how this year went by so fast. Suddenly I'm getting on a plane and have no idea what to think or feel. Except I hope they have cheese with the on-flight meal. And chocolate. Even if it is breakfast.

I just turned in my dissertation. Felt a bit dazed when I saw the hard cover w/my name printed on the spine, just like a big-girl book.

Closed out my Barclay's bank account. My masters degree cost $22,000, which is $8,000 under budget. I kick trash. People should marry me for my fiscal skills alone.

Tonight my sweet friends are throwing me a goodbye party, and then someone will drop me and my bags off at the curb of the Leicester Bus Station.

And then the trek begins. Let's go over this, shall we?

12:15 am--Catch National Express bus to Gatwick Airport

4:00 am--Arrive at airport.

7:00 am--Check in for flight. Will be told that my luggage is too heavy. Will suck it up and pay the fines.

9:00 am--Fly to Atlanta. Take herbal sleep aids with in-flight meal. Lots of them. Live without water OR lip balm. Seriously, people. You think the terrorists are going to use lip balm??

1:00 pm--Atlanta arrival. Sit around for hours. Without lip balm. Because The Precious went to Alaska early, will not be seeing her. Will formulate half-baked answers to potential interview questions.

5:45pm--Fly to SLC.

9:05pm--Fly to Alaska amongst the fleece-wearers.

12:05am--Arrive in Alaska and terrify my mother with the sight of my dead, gaunt face, peeling lips, and grouchy demeanor. Wait 6 hours for luggage with half the population of Anchorage. Drive 45 minutes to house.

1:30am--Pass out in bed at the end of 34 hours of traveling.

12:00pm--Attempt a coherent phone interview for a UT library job. Will probably start a) sobbing, b) speaking in tongues, or c) snoring at some point during interview. Wish me luck with that, please?

The one thing I'm sort of not letting myself think about is how much I will miss everyone and how rubbish I am at saying goodbye to people. And I don't want to think about how much I will miss beautiful England and the color green. So I won't think about it right now. You'll get many a tear-stained post in the future about that, I'm sure.

Had better go check my bags one more time, but I hope people will still keep reading this blog when it's not all English and cool anymore and when it's just about this girl who got a masters degree so she could go live with her parents in the tundra.

Took this picture on Sunday in Bradgate Park. See why I want to cry?

Don't walk, people. Run, drive, or fly.

Everyone needs to go see Wicked right now. Seriously. I would buy a full-price ticket to go back and watch it again tomorrow if I could. So, so fabulous.



First off, the set is amazing. As are the costumes. And the music. And everything else. I got chills the second the music started, and then kept getting them over and over again, which is how you do it, Mary Poppins. At the end I had no hesitations about giving a standing ovation, since it absolutely met the "must be so fabulous as to make me forget where I am and possibly transport my soul from my body" criteria.

I have never been in a better or more excited audience. When the curtain went up everyone went completely wild and started clapping and cheering and whistling. And then every time someone new/famous came on stage everybody went nuts again.

Idina Menzel . . . there are no words. None. She was amazing. Anyone who can make it to London to see her needs to do so, now. In January someone else takes over the role, and will be fine I'm sure, but still. Go now.

Goldilocks and I sat next to these two adorable English teenaged boys who are total Wicked groupies. They were wearing the t-shirts and had all the gear and evaluated whether the people onstage were doing it right. ("Too English." "Too American--definitely." "Hasn't quite sold me yet, we'll see how she does in the second half.") I think that last one was about Glinda, who grew on me as well.

Pretty much all the characters have UK accents now, with the exception of Elphaba and the Wizard. It works.

There was only one disappointment: In the big Defying Gravity number Elphaba is supposed to rise up into the air in this big dramatic moment, but something went wrong and she didn't go up--just stood in the middle of the stage and finished the song. I sat there thinking, "Okay, now she's going to go up. Or now. Aaaaand here she goes. Wait. . . she's not going up. Why isn't she going up???" But still, if you didn't know it was meant to happen you probably wouldn't have noticed because your jaw would be hanging open at her singing.


I was so glad finally to see Goldilocks after two months of us both being holed away with dissertations and madness. Only hers is due at the beginning of October so she's still hard at work, so everyone please send good vibes her way.

We did some other fun things in London as well:

• Tate Britain to look at Pre-Raphaelites for Goldy's dissertation
• Lunch at Wagamama, where I had coconut ice cream w/mango sauce and toasted coconut shavings
• Walked along the Thames & got some great pics, including a video clip of Big Ben chiming
• Discovered the South Bank Book Market, which NO ONE EVEN TOLD ME ABOUT BEFORE.
• Experienced sardine-tin conditions and horrible delays on the Tube
• Sprinted to the train station, attracting the unfortunate attentions of a group of drunken football fans who started running alongside us and shouting things, which resulted in some regrettable and uncharacteristic language from me. Please remind me never to open my mouth when I'm about to die from an exertion-induced heart attack.
  
• Weren't let on our train and had to get on the next, where we didn't have seat assignments.
• Sat in First Class & didn't even get narked on. Had a sob story at the ready about how we were trying to get away from the drunken football fans. I volunteered to be the one who cries, since I already had the hyperventilating down. But no one even checked. First class is nice, y'all. Got my breath back and read my Wicked program like the geek I am.
  

It was a gorgeous day and the perfect way to say goodbye to my beautiful London that I love. It was a little bit easier this time because I no longer have to get all panicked and think, "Okay, this is it. I may never come back here again." Now I accept that it's a matter of when rather than if.

Finished!!!!!

Hah HAH! Have turned it in for binding! Have had massage!

The massage was lovely. But the thing is, I have come to realize that the therapist I used to go to back in the days of back-destroying travel was a brilliant, brilliant genius superwoman with dark powers. She was the only thing that kept me from walking around like a hunchback for two years. I saved per diem money by eating Wendy's salads every day on the road and would then give the rest of it to her twice a month, at which times she would work. me. over. No lie, the woman did not rest until she got through every layer of muscle on my body and worked out every last bit of tension. She made me whimper a few times. She was the first (and last) person who ever used the words "hard as a rock" in connection with my bum. Only she didn't mean it in a good way. And she would spend less time on the rest of me so she could tackle the calcifying disgrace that is the back of my shoulders.

The girl I went to today did not do those things. Even though I told her right away where it hurt and what needed attention, she seemed to be more going through a set routine than actually trying to fix me. I wish that instead of giving my kneecaps and the inside of my elbows such rapt attention she could have possibly turned some of that back over to the parts of me that actually get tense. There was this one part where she kept running one finger down the inside of my arm from my wrist to my elbow. It made me think of the episode on Friends where Ross gets stuck giving an old guy a massage and has to make it up as he goes, incorporating wooden spoons and Matchbox cars. ("He said he liked the cars!")

On a more positive note, though, the room was decorated very well, with pretty little tealights. It was all very relaxing. And she used this massage oil with lavendar essential oils that smelled fabulous. That is my story.

Running on fumes

I'm so close. So close to being done.

I'm also an exhausted, bedraggled, emotionally-fragile basket case. Yesterday I took a break from writing to watch a couple of clips from Grey's Anatomy on YouTube because I was suddenly in the mood for some Patrick Dempsey (because really, when is not a good time for Patrick Dempsey?).

Let me state here that I've never even seen this show before even though I've read some recaps. (Note: the recaps do not tell you how gorgeous pretty much everyone on this show is. It's like the Beautiful People Show.) So yes. Show I've never seen before and have no emotional attachment to.

And yet.

I sat there in front of my laptop completely sobbing about Meredith and McDreamy and The Love They Share. "Sniffff! He lo-o-o-ves her so mu-u-u-uch! Mwhahhggghhhaaahhhhggggg!!! " Don't even get me started about the clip where she had put her dog to sleep. Could. Not. Handle. It.

Sometime in the next 12 hours I'm going to finish this thing, and then I'm going to get myself to the massage therapist. And I will probably spend the entire 75 minutes sobbing into that little toilet-seat-shaped thing you put your face in because it will be the first time I've unclenched in about 6 weeks.

Gah!

Okay, be calm. No need to panic. Have to finish the dissertation this week, so really should not be writing blog posts at all. But I was without Internet access for the last two days and almost died from the withdrawal symptoms.

I wanted to thank everyone, though, who wished me a Happy Birthday yesterday. I got some lovely and thoughtful texts and emails and e-cards and G-talk voice messages. ("Yes, I love technology . . . ") My favorite, though, has to be the Google video of The Precious singing Happy Birthday in the manner of an indentured servant who is routinely forced to sing while putting on pajama bottoms. It kind of made me bark like a seal.

Because Lady J had to go up to the Lake District to do geology things, she dropped me off at the Preston Temple on Monday. So I worked on my laptop in the accommodations, and then the next day I did temple work during the day and worked on my bibliography for 4 hours in the evening before she came to get me. And then my dried-out eyes fell out of their sockets.

Observations about the Preston Temple:

• It is beautiful there. Of course.
• It was Scottish week or something, and it turns out Scottish people are loud compared to English people. Everywhere I went there were Scots calling out things like "It was rrrrrainin' yesterrrrday!" and cooking really smelly fish and saying words that I could not even make out.
• The cafeteria food at Preston is naff. My choices for lunch were soggy macaroni & cheese, a dessicated pork slab, or lukewarm chicken in an indeterminable red sauce. The dessert was supposed to be rhubarb crumble but looked like brown vomit. So. Happy Birthday to me. At the London temple they have this retired French chef serving a mission there, so you get things like lobster bisque and turkey with tarragon and profiteroles there.
  

But I'm not too bitter, because Sunday night Lady J made this amazing warm chocolate mascarpone cheesecake. It's made with double cream and egg whites and ground almonds and dark Belgian chocolate and I kind of wanted to make out with it right there. SO good. And more like a really rich brownie thing than a cheesecake. I would show a picture but that new Beta Blogger is on my craplist right now. It won't work with Picasa AND it won't let me post comments on blogs that haven't updated to Beta yet. What the heck is that about???? Anyway, I've been eating the cheesecake for breakfast with sliced bananas and double cream on top. Will have to buy all new clothes soon.

Other highlights:

Have booked a 75-minute massage for Friday afternoon. Could not be more excited.
Have booked trim and highlights for Monday. Ditto.
Wicked is in 3 days. There are no words.

Dirty baaaaaaabe

First off, you have to go see this--Savvy and I are considering taking our act on the road.

I can't believe I get to see her precious self in less than two weeks. We will both squeal so loudly that possibly airline security will arrest us. And maybe the Nazgul will turn up. Also I'll get to see Baby Ethan some more, which I'm very excited about since he was newborn the last time. And everyone knows newborns aren't real people yet.

Other good news for the day: I talked to my advisor and he says I'm in good shape and just need to finish the thing. So yay for that! In my euphoria must remind self that have not actually finished yet so cannot relax and begin the festivities.

Amyjane asked what's on my list for the next two weeks. And since I imagine (key word) you're all dying to know, here it is:

Dinner tonight at a locally famous chippery. It's in a nearby village called Rothley and you have to book ahead if you want to eat there. Lady J says if you want real fish & chips then this is the best place.

Housewarming toast for one of the YSA tonight. I'll be seeing people that I haven't seen in months, so I'm excited. It's called a toast because everyone brings yummy bread with something to put on top of it. I can fully support that kind of a party.

I want to go dancing next week.

I'm likely going to the Preston temple for a day to clear my head.

Wicked is next weekend. Cannot be more excited.

Goodbye-ish party next weekend or week after. Will distribute possessions among friends in manner of dying person or similar. Ladies, speak up now if you want the flat-iron with ceramic plates. Only used twice!

I have a honey-scented bath bomb and a chocolate scented bubble-bath bar from Lush. They, along with a nice long candlelit soak, are my reward for when I get the dissertation in to the binder.

If the Loughborough College opens up and has appointments before I leave, I'm going to get a massage and have my hair done. Otherwise I will resemble a frizzy-haired hunchback in all the wedding photos, and we don't want that. Better for people at the reception to ask me why I'm still single than to take one look and have their answer.