3 coats of 203 Miami Peach

and now for a job. i have a cold in my head and feel quite bad. but being home has been surprisingly ok, i have done all of my filing and finally feel at the stage at which i can actually do things. perhaps apart from keep up to date with my blog. shredding my bank statements from as far back as sixth form was immensely therapeutic. with each dusty bucketload of massacred paper i felt a little happier. so i would feel quite good today if it weren't for this cold and the fact that i am all but bedbound on the day of the carnival - but i've got used to always being the kid that stays at home and misses the party. ha.
i don't know when i last wrote, but i have officially been at home in dulwich since the 22nd. before that i was in leeds with my grandfather, whom i accompanied to hospital every day for a week. i'm getting used to hospitals now, which is good, because i used to have a big fear (possibly induced by watching too much rolf harris in my youth). and i daresay i find death a little easier to get my head around too. i probably shouldn't say that but it's true. the more that you are exposed to something the less terrifyingly it seems to loom.
our cat has gone missing; i miss her even though she didn't like us very much.
i am worrying about money, but i know that this is normal for a graduate. however i have become a little more thrifty and have developed more of a make do and mend attitude - i've done a lot of sewing of things and have returned broken things to shops for replacements and things like that whereas before i might have bought new stuff. i did buy a beautiful dress the other day though, it is a cream creation from the fifties that is covered in a japanese print that involves pink blossom creeping over a trellis. it also has japanese characters on it posing as flowers which, according to the lady at the shop at which i bought it, says 'pretty blossom'. clever. i do have my suspicions that it might say 'oyster happy friend' or something similar, though. you never know. unless, of course, you can read japanese. speaking of japanese i am addicted, officially, to murakami. reading his books is like reclining in a bathtub full of custard. with an oyster happy friend. i love him. my current read is dance dance dance, recommended to me by a man in chicago (how i miss that place!) who served me falafel. i have read a bit but it hurts to a little to read at the moment so i'll wait until my head unclogs.

ppphhhtlll.