Just a note on the last entry. I didn't finish it when I started writing it (obviously, but there was a two day gap) and when I got round to publish it I couldn't be bothered to proof read it. Sorry.
Yesterday was a good day. I went to the morning service, then to lunch at Miss Nelson's to consume chilli con carne. I then spent about an hour and a half cleaning Rachael's house, as she was to leave the next day and feeling too under the weather to do it herself. So I did it (I don't know why her other housemates couldn't do it). Then we went to the Candle-light Carol service, and that was good. Then we went to the pub, then consumed a homemade Christmas pudding. But I will let you into a secret. Come on, closer, we don't want anyone else to know. Its just that...promise you wont tell...well, I don't think I can tell you. Okay. The pudding was mouldy. To be honest, it was the tiniest bits of mold, they were about the size of the capital O on you screen, and there were about three of them. I was not going to waste hours of cooking and preperation just because of some mould smaller than my thumbnail. So I cut it off, and fed it to people. They enjoyed it. Unfortunately, Rachael is allergic to penicillin, so I have to wait and see what happens on that front.
Today I had some people round for dinner and played Kerplunk. If anyone knew that Kerplunk could descend into such mayhem, such madness, such trauma, then WHY THE HECK DID THEY NOT WARN ME? Seriously, there should be notices on the boxes: 'Do not allow immature students to play unsupervised'. Sticks, silver balls and phallic components were flying everywhere. It was scary. Then we played consequences. Of course that fell into the sordid and bizarre category and somehow in one of them we managed to reach the conclusion that 9/11 was an act of divine judgment, or something of the like.
So, Stephen: Aha! now we're even.
I realise that is sounds as if I cut the mould off and fed it to my friends, and not the actual pudding. Hanging modifiers, eh?
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