mildly troubled

We (vets, Iona, Reece, me; Vicky is in London at a bar mitzvah) went to the party in the Wilflete flat yesterday and found that it was full of people we had never quite gotten to know, and so, antisocially, we got hold of Ben and played "The Worst Thing". This is a game Reece and Iona made up, in which we take it in turns to describe the worst thing that could happen to a given one of our friends. Even though this is basically an awful game, it somehow has an affectionate tone to it; it requires sympathy. "Ella is in an underground bunker during a nuclear war," I said. "When the war is over, she emerges, and she's the only person left alive." Iona said, "Tom has to go on Big Brother and is on the cover of HEAT every week. It's in his contract that he has to marry Jade Goody. And he's forever known as 'Big Brother Tom'." Interestingly, when we switched to describing our own worst things, they were very different from the worst things other people had come up with for us, much less specific. (Tom was one of the few with a very specific fear of his own: later said he would be okay with marrying Jade Goody if he got a lot of money out of it and didn't have to spend much time with her; the worst thing would be something happening to his viola.)

If it turns out that goat's cheese, like tuna, can be harmful when consumed in very large quantities, I'm probably one of the few people in the world who's in trouble.

I am extremely tempted to chuck it all in (by which I mean "get the degree first", obviously) and try for the one-year trainee position at the Oxford Union Library (not a wholly random caprice; it's advertised in the Careers Service listings). Advantages: it's one of the few areas I actually have experience in; it would be peaceful enough for me to do M.Phil thinking at the same time; it's very unlikely to burn me out; it might be fun; the salary is okay (about twice my student loan). Disadvantages: it isn't the start of a career path I really want; I would be all alone in Oxford and not necessarily in a position to make a lot of new friends; Oxford might suck.

Nngh. Ngh? I really don't know. Today I woke up worried sick about what to do with my stuff after next term. (I suppose I'll give as much as I can spare to Oxfam and have my family help transport the rest in suitcases when they come up for the graduation. Yes, it will be fine.)