Miracles will never cease

So, after the shock revelation that somebody actaully reads this, (I know! Hi Les!) I decided it was time I updated you.

Lately I've been going to various universities to have a look around. You see, where all six of the unis I applied to have accepted me, I now have to decide which ones I consider to be good enough for me. (Which is all well and good until I fail my exams.)
Today I checked out Chichester university - eventually! Y'see, I'm not great at mapreading. Never have been. So when I was told that it would fall to me to decide where we were going, I knew there was only one way that could go.

And indeed, when we stumbled through the door of Chichester College an hour late, my worst fears had been realised. But more than that, halfway through filling out the form, I realised they thought I was going into childcare, and that the college is in fact NOT the university. So we left again. I was close to tears at one point. But the rest of the day went fine (except for getting hideously lost again on the way back through no fault of our own [they moved the ferry terminal. Seriously.])

Guess what! Ben's planned a Man's Night In! Oh dear, this may take some explaining. You see, last Man's Night In we had, I was invited as a special guest. I thought "Great, so I get to see what men act like when there are no girls around," as I'm usually in mixed company. I'm not the girliest girl ever, so I thought I'd be in my element! Not AT ALL what I expected. My (heterosexual) male friends were:
1) Watching Friends. Understandable.
2) Using moisturiser. Forgivable.
3) Dying each other's hair in the bathroom. Hmmmm.

So watching my friends taking their tops off, all 5 or 6 of us crammed into the bathroom, the most boyish thing that happened was a less-than-subtle joke about what Jamez was going to do with the rubber glove provided with the hair-dye kit.

This time it's going to be a proper manly night, with beer and sports. Never drunk beer before, could be an experience, especially since Justin wants me to drink his share as he can't be there! Sigh. I miss Justin. He's moved to London for a year, which is just inconsiderate really.

I wonder if anyone can help me with something. In Newport on the Isle of Wight there's a tiny theatre / art gallery type thing called the Quay Arts Centre. After I saw a play there the other night, I came out to see the words "The afflicted" written in chalk on a wooden part of the building. I immediately thought Oooooo a mystery! Who are the afflicted? What does it mean? What do they want? How many of them are there? Do you know?

Of course you don't. Probably one person with some chalk knows. I doubt they read my blog.

Sorry for the rather lengthy post, hope you like it. Take care y'all.

Anna x x