Puddle on the floor

Have just read Amy's blog. Hmph! I do NOT remember being mean to her, but I apologise anyway. Had a very fun, if completely deranged lunchtime with Amy, Max, Cieran, Rosie, Joe and Simon, which involved a lot of fighting, (Max and Amy over the bottles, me and Joe over the fact he called me a midget, and Cieran and Rosie cos they don't like each other).

We basically went mad in the rain and chased each other round the quad fighting over bottles and sponges, and randomly hugging each other. I hugged Joe to provoke him (I was being surprisingly violent) and he pushed me in the bush! I got absolutely soaked!

Anyway, Amy is in a huff with me, so I'll have to try and make amends. Sorry Amy :-( Please Forgive me!

Not a bad day today. Spent most of it in the computer rooms for various subjects. Looked up Casanaova on the net. Am sad because there was a big Radio Times with lots of wonnnnnderful piccys of The Tennant-meister in Casanova and I didn't get a copy (I used to collect radio times).

Hmm, am being superficial. Beg pardon. And Amoeba IS Elizabeth!

Ho-hum socky.

The kitchen is flooding downstairs, so Mum and Dad are naturally going a bit bad-tempered. Our brand new washing machine is leaking in some unknown place and the kitchen floor has become a massive puddle. It's odd; but when I saw it I was automatically reminded of the Sims. They have puddles, too.

I mean, everyone does, but...well, it's an existentialist theory. How do we know that we're not Sims? That we are being controlled by a blonde curly haired teenager on a computer? Is there a green diamond over our heads that we can't see? Think about it. I'll explain more fully later; the Simpsons is on.

Post later, hopefully. Amy, please comment or e-mail or something!

Peace out.