Now I am just fed up.

I adore squalour. I live in a mess, but I choose to live that way. I find imperfection charming - I like things which are broken, it gives them personality. You probably agree with me, to an extent: which of you does not wax romantic over well-loved books? But I take it very far indeed, and so we come to the hallowed halls of the Dude in Brown. The taps come out cloudy, one of the showers is screwed, the kitchen is an unholy mess and one side of the room is always out of electricity - but it tends to swop around so you can never guess. I've never minded these things, merely enjoy grumbling about them. No sense of smell makes the kitchen situation less pressing for me, and I enjoy the morning gamble as to which toaster might work. Even the two occasions on which faulty equipment almost caused fires - did cause a fire, in one case - well, it's just student living eh?

Something snapped about a week ago. To begin with, I'm actually noticing the mess in the kitchen where I never did before. It bothers me that I can't have a glass of water from the cold taps, and that when I make ice it's filled with flecks of tangled grit. And now this. I'm mucking around on the web, when suddenly, the screen appears to flicker at me. It's like a vicious optical illusion, and I have to look away. I assume I've been on the computer waaay too long and start switching it off. And then the ceiling light starts flashing - not going dim and pfut, but actually gold and black in quick succession. Had it been a horror movie, the ghosts would have appeared then and staggered towards me as I ran down the never-ending asylum corridor, and with every flash the ghosts got closer. Just like Blink in fact. I assumed it was about to stop, but it didn't, so I switched it off at the wall and stumbled out into the corridor. I assumed it was the whole building, but apparently just my room. I was both rationally and irrationally unnerved by this. It was about 7 in the evening and getting quite dark, and I was still unreasonably edgy about my bad dream. It felt awfully like A Sign Meaning Something Or Other. And rationally, because my ceiling light had just majorly malfunctioned. I gave it five minutes, and went back in to try the light - everything else in the building was fine after all. No, crazy mad horror-movie flashes again - and this time it was sparking, SPARKING folks, and very pretty it was too. Oh how I love student living, eh?

So I switched it off, looked out my torch - a life saver, that torch has always been. I think I will name it. I deliberately took my Sixth Doctor coat to go and complain at reception, and as an afterthought, grabbed Planet of Fire as well. If I'd seriously thought my room was about to burst into flames there are other possessions I'd have put hands on too - sentimental jewellrey, some of my sketches, Aurinko, my Dorian Gray. As it was, I was pretty sure it would be alright, but it's an indication of how much the physical video of Planet of Fire means to me that I refused to risk it. Felt a bit stupid carrying it all the way to reception, but oh well. Reception can't do anything till morning. Which is fair enough, but I was still pretty irritated. I took the oppertunity to complain that they'd never replaced my broken anglepoise either, and thus had no light, and he found me a new one. Twas sweet of him, but frankly, I'm not happy sleeping here. But what can I say? Student living!

Sweet dreams to all.