134 litres (prizes for guessing what this is)

Today I got a goodie bag, and in it were the following:

- Assorted pens and pencils, including an engraved pen
- Badges
- Keyring
- Oyster card, with £5 pre-pay
- Football Foundation tshirt
- Bottle of Coke Zero (the old Diet Coke, I think)
- Pair of flip-flops
- Copy of ‘Eastern Eye’
- Copy of ‘New Nation’
- FA Premier League Community report – why??
- Box of mints
- CD of ‘Highlights from Disney on Broadway

My favourite is the CD, and I think I will spend the last half hour in the office having a listen. And then, quite possibly, shooting myself in the head.

After leaving the airport yesterday, some vaguely amusing things happened. On the tube, two girls who had just come from Singapore were talking about me in Chinese (they said I was pretty) and were trying to surreptitiously take photos of me. A woman was wearing stirrup trousers in a non-ironic way. A man thought I was Australian and started talking to me about “back home” (clearly having a bag makes you an antipodean). I accidentally offended some men by accidentally ignoring them (I was listening to music) when they asked if I needed a hand with my suitcase (yes, I was the chump at the airport with a suitcase, not going anywhere). But I didn’t cry at any point, because I promised I wouldn’t, and what is a promise for if not for keeping?

When I got home, I was greeted by two pissed idiots, aka #1 and #4. #1 gave me a hug and offered me a beer. #4 pointed drunkenly at me and told me to stop my emotional claptrap, but offered me whisky and a spliff. I chose beer and we sat out on the back step and drank and I looked at the planes going past, but was slightly distracted by the vile smell coming from #4 (his excuse for not using stronger deodorant: “I don’t want my pores to fuse closed with that stuff.” His excuse for not showering more: “I can’t be bothered, I smell like a real man.”), which wasn’t helped by the amount of curry they’d both eaten.

After a while, we went back inside and watched the rest of the Sweden-Paraguay match and did handstands and kicked the ball about until we remembered that #2 was “asleep” in the next room (read: studiously ignoring us). #1 kept saying the most stupid things. Here are her three finest moments from last night:

#1: Castration? That’s when they chop the willy off, right? How does that work?”

#1: Would you like to start doing some dance classes with me?
Me: Erm, like ballet? I already do ballet, remember.
#1: Oh yeah.

#1: Oh my god, did you hear that the Tamil Tigers have attacked Singapore!!
Me: What the hell are you talking about?
#1: Yeah, sixty people have died!
Me: Shit the bed, my boyfriend is flying to a war zone right this second!!
#1: But it’s in a rural area, and he lives in the city, so he’ll be fine.
Me: Huh? There isn’t a rural area. Singapore is tiny!
#1: Yeah there is!
Me: Oh pet, I think you’re talking about Sri Lanka.

In the end, the two of them got incredibly stoned, and we all watched Family Guy on #1’s bed, but then I thought I’d leave them alone to have some more bungled sex, and I moped around in my room. It’s a little bit weird being around the two of them- not bad, just weird- because you know that if you weren’t in the room, they’d be shagging. I like to think of myself as preserving the cleanliness of the furniture (I’ve already told #1 not to use the kitchen table). However, it may be weird, but it’s still better than when #3 was there.

Today I was talking to this girl who works in the Press Office. She’s so sweet (bear in mind she’s older, more mature and less professionally shite than me). She was getting sad that I am leaving at the end of the month, and asked what I’d been up to recently. I said about going to the airport, and she was like, “that’s so cool, you went to Heathrow! I love airports!” I pointed out that they’re a bit more fun if you’re going somewhere, although you do (mostly- unless you’re a drug dealing fuckwit like certain people) manage to avoid the security measures that now SEE UNDER YOUR CLOTHES. “No,” she said. “I really love airports. They’re so exciting.” So there we go.

Free pens and airport enthusiasm and stories about seagulls eating mustard sandwiches aside, the day is dragging by. But it’s nearly the weekend (as in, in half an hour), we’re going to a shitty indie club tonight, and a roast dinner on Sunday, so I think the obvious conclusion would be: smashing.