Drama in the last ten minutes of calling as Sam showed up with Mary Ellen, who had broken her arm while they were rollerblading in Asda. (She seemed quite cheerful, though, and Asda seems like a good place to break your arm; they have first aid people and everything.) Calum, who is Mary Ellen's boyfriend, emerged palely from the call room. "If you blame me, it's like you don't consider her a responsible human being," Sam said very quickly. "You use that line a lot," I said.

I finished up my shift (which went well; I exceeded my target for the day and brought in a couple of thousand pounds, though I was also called "uncivilized" by someone with an Order of the British Empire. My call supervisor, who has a sixth sense for bad calls, was at my side with a box of chocolates when I hung up), gradually shook off my reflexive politeness and stopped responding "I perfectly understand" and "That's so kind of you" to everything, and went home. Vicky, Iona, Tom and Zofia were in the kitchen having rumbletinis, and I proceeded into the special squiffiness brought on by many glasses of dark rum and ginger beer on an empty stomach. Strangely enough, I feel fine today; possibly it's the revitalizing properties of the ginger beer.

Next week the Longest Journey begins, as I go to London to get supervised on the doubles dissertation. I am a pretty dedicated supervisee. (I may also be anticipating a day of London Frolics. Out-of-town Frolics are just better.)