I had a really good night last night. Thursday is officially known as Hangover Day in my circle of friends. Wednesday nights out are unforgiving, and you've been blessed with a miracle if you don't wake up with some sort of bad head or dodgy stomach. Usually I like to treat myself by ignoring any semblance of a meal plan for the day, and eating whenever I want, and however much I want. Calories don't count after a night out - that's my motto, anyway. Yesterday I was obviously in life's good books, because I woke up and didn't feel totally wrecked. I went to Nando's after my lecture, with Lucy and one of the rowing boys, and ordered a bit of a feast. Normally I over-exaggerate. I think I might be under-exaggerating this time. Does a double chicken burger with cheese, peas, and also chips sound enough? I was absolutely stuffed by the time I'd finished. And of course I finished my meal. Never leave food behind at restaurants. Ever. Just don't do it. I don't know whether it's the student mentality kicking in - 'I will not waste ANYTHING! I paid for this!' - or just my appetite, which seems to be equivalent to that of a very hungry walrus at the moment.
Salivating. Again.
Want to see some pictures? Wednesday night the rowers were dressed to the nines in their finest army gear. I'm telling you, face paint isn't easy to get off. I spent about half the morning scrubbing my face red-raw to get it off. I wasn't hugely keen on wandering through campus covered in paint from the night before - that kind of thing lies in the same realm as the ever-famous walk of shame. I am dreading the day I buy the wrong sort of face paint and it sticks permanently to my face and I have to sit in lectures covered in it. And that day will come. And it will be some horrifically bright glow paint or something similar. It might happen.
Reporting for duty. Cringe poses by my housemates and I.
Why sit on a chair when you have the floor?
Outfit: courtesy of one of the girls' housemate's boyfriend (bit of a mouthful, that was). He had a huge bag of army kit he no longer wanted. So I bagsied an army jacket, which I cut up a bit, and belted round my waist. Being short has its disadvantages. Then I had a lovely time running riot with the paint, covering my legs, arms and face with streaks of camouflage-like colours. Also I splodged my nails with various different dark colours. Bit of a mish-mash (the nails, not me, although that is kind of true as well), and they looked slightly pre-schoolian. I didn't take a picture because I'm slightly embarrassed by my efforts.
'OLD MCDONALD HAD A FARM... EE-I EE-I EE-I OH!' Last Wednesday I dressed up as a farmer. Or, more accurately, I was meant to be shepherd. The first social for the rowers is notoriously known as sheep-and-shepherd night. To put it simply - previous rowers (dressed as farmers) and new rowers (dressed as sheep) get paired off with the opposite sex. They're tied together for the night, and the farmer pretty much has full say on how the night will go.
It's safe to say that night was a messy one. I think everyone had a whale of a time (hopefully). There were trails of cotton wool across the street, so you could kind of map where everyone had been. Cotton wool being from the sheep, obviously... It was like shearing season on a farm; even super-strength glue doesn't seem to stand a chance.
I have more pictures, but I'm getting a bit bored of seeing my face. I'll finish up now. Have a lovely day, enjoy the sun if you're in Swansea!
Big love, xo
It's safe to say that night was a messy one. I think everyone had a whale of a time (hopefully). There were trails of cotton wool across the street, so you could kind of map where everyone had been. Cotton wool being from the sheep, obviously... It was like shearing season on a farm; even super-strength glue doesn't seem to stand a chance.
Just getting ready to round up our sheep...
Sofa smiles
Big love, xo
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