Having no car is not joyous and free but just unhandy

Here is a picture of my arm four hours after I got back from Tesco’s. Observe how it is still bearing the marks of carrying really really heavy bags all over the place, and bear in mind that I did not even walk home; this is just getting from the bus stop to my dorm, which is normally like a two-minute walk. That’s how heavy my bags were.


Okay, that doesn’t look very horrible, but I swear, it looks like way angrier in real life. It’s so uncool, it’s like a streaky bag-produced arm hickey. (And nobody likes hickeys.)

In other news, all I have to do for dinner tonight is give Kieran a pound fifty and I get steak pie (Kieran says: If I get a pie, just proper steak pie straight through with gravy, can I share your mash?) and mash made by Sarah and Trish who have mash seriously every single night. And then, instead of learning to read secretary hand like I should be doing, I shall watch American Dad with my flatmates.