Bristol, Piercings, Moving

First, the most important piece of new in all of the U.K.: SPRING HAS FINALLY COME TO LONDON. Praise Jesus or Prince Harry or whoever is responsible, because not spending my evenings shivering at bus stops in 4883 layers of clothing is good for the soul. There are even flowers (which, let it be known, I identified by name. Yo, mom).

On the topic of Spring, and because London gets boring when all the losers you hang around with skip off to Amsterdam for the weekend, I went to Bristol last Saturday. Home of Skins, chavvy girls and--apparently--the coolest suspension bridge ever, it's 2.5 hours from London by bus and completely bomb. Highlights include the aforementioned suspension bridge, taking pictures with a survey woman at Tesco (after having to admit that we, in fact, visited her Tesco solely because we could see it from the green where we wanted to drink...and spent only 3.60, on said drinks), not freezing to death, MAGIC ROLL, meeting a boy at a club who claimed to have gone to uni to study football, and Amanda's rapping skills at the bus station at 4:55 a.m. You should probably go. You should not, however, decide to keep it homeless and take the 4:55 bus back to London. There is nothing more soul-crushing than trying to navigate notoriously shitty Sunday morning public transport hungover and running on 2 hours of bus sleep. Oops.

Last week, I also left my overpriced, antisocial home on Stamford Street for a lovely Danehurst prison cell in Camberwell. It's nice to actually spend more than 2-3 nights a week in my own bed. Enough on that.

In other news, I pierced my nose and Shelley didn't kill me. It also didn't hurt at all. There is only one more week of lectures at King's, which basically means that my life will be the same, I'll just spend significantly less time feeling guilty.

xxx