I have become British

I care what happens to Owen on Torchwood. They should just go ahead and grant me permanent residency status.

Reasons I would not make a good teacher, part 1

I am terrible at telling off students. Actually, no, I'm quite good at telling off students who are being noisy or insubordinate; I'm only terrible if they've done something I'd be likely to do myself, such as forget/procrastinate for weeks about setting up a meeting. I just assume they feel terrible and am reluctant to add to it.

This time I could just barely bring myself not to sign off with "thanks" or "best wishes", which the recipient, not being me, may not even notice.

Slippery

Ha HA. After a lot of tweaking, editing, and telling myself sharply not to use the word "interpenetration" in a personal statement, application number 2, to King's, is IN. My eggs are officially distributed in multiple baskets. Four to go.

What's much less painful, and in fact sort of worryingly enjoyable, is the piece I'm writing for a fashion journalism contest. I'm being fairly earnest about it, tracking down historical and cultural precedents, psychologising, considering far-fetched literary references, etc. It's pleasingly similar to writing a supervision essay, except about accessories. Whee.

Met Iona in London yesterday and was, once again, the recipient of free stuff merely by trailing in her wake, in this case a hair consultation and hair products. "You have to stop me if it looks like I'm about to buy something," she said. "We should have a signal for if it looks like it's a kidnapping ring," I said, flapping my arms like chicken wings. "Like this." In the end it was not a kidnapping ring and we were not ripped off, but I was completely put off the Pantene shampoo and conditioner I usually use. Apparently "it doesn't actually improve the hair, it just coats it and makes it slippery". I can't rationally see anything wrong with that, since hair is as far as I know dead organic matter that doesn't need to be fed or nourished, but now I can't stop thinking about my hair being coated with all manner of unpleasantness. Nnngh.

In which Diet Coke disappoints

I'm in one of the houses at the top of the hill as part of my Sunday House Duty Extravaganza, and there's a cupboard full of leftover soda cans, so I'm drinking a Diet Coke. It's not at all a pleasant experience, possibly because its expiry date is coming up, and I should stop.

Yesterday, on the other hand, was surprisingly fun. I spent the interval of gymnastics/dance/synchronised swimming show opening and pouring about fifteen bottles of wine in quick succession, which is fun if only because it makes the people getting the wine so happy, then changed and went to what turned out to be a bright-pink Valentine-themed social. (My accidental concession to the theme was a belt with heart-shaped studs.) We were supposed to be an unobtrusive staff presence, which proved tricky because the staff table was on the stage and spotlit. Finally we just got them to turn off all the stage lights and sat eating coffee mints and drinking wine in the semi-gloom. Most of us also heroically refrained from dancing, which is good because I really don't think the kids like it. The boys generally get very overwrought and ask every female member of staff to dance (we firmly shake our heads), but even so there's always a sense that universes are colliding.

And today is the most springlike day so far this year; the air actually smells of flowers. Sadly, I'm spending most of it inside on House Duty Extravaganza. I can't wait until summer, when house duty will mean lying on the lawn and occasional frisbee-throwing.

In which I am what I eat

It's not so much a goal as an inevitability: one day in the not too distant future, all the food I eat will be twee. I will consume nothing that does not have a philosophy, a charity, and a blog (http://www.superjam.co.uk/blog.html, http://www.todaywasfun.com/newsletters/jan08.htm, http://innocentdrinks.typepad.com/). I will eat Dorset cereal, drink Innocent smoothies, and imbibe a splendidly ridiculous array of tea. Though I may have to go vegetarian until some company figures out a way to make meat twee.

Most of the time I quite like this development, though once last year I was hanging out in Vicky's room while she wrote a review of a Corinne Bailey Rae CD, necessitating listening to it over and over, and we couldn't figure out what was getting on our nerves until we realised that it was basically the auditory version of an Innocent smoothie.

In general, I am okay. What I'd like most at the moment is to do something nature-related and physically strenuous, like skiing or, I don't know, working on a vegetable patch. I watched a polo practice yesterday and suddenly realised that riding actually looks like fun, though I could do without the giant mallets. It's you and a random, huge animal, working in tandem!

Failing any of this, I'd like to watch some Green Wing. NONE OF MY DREAMS CAN COME TRUE.

fix my ignition

London! Iona and I got one headache apiece in various overheated department stores, got free coffees at Pret (because Iona has "a nice smile"; however on my way home the guy at the AMT stand was intensely flirtatious - "Where are you going?" "[Name of town]" "I bet they love you there" - so it all balanced out), participated in a market survey and probably made the Filofax marketing board cry by describing it as a staid brand for middle-aged people, considered the purchase of fake cherry-blossom branches where the flowers light up, and sat on the floor in Borders debating which Disney films were best (The Lion King, The Little Mermaid). When Ella got off work after an entire day of photocopying, we all went for fairly posh hamburgers and chilli fries, followed by G&Ts. The G&Ts were consumed listening to Datarock's "Fa Fa Fa", which was incongruous but delightful in a British pub.

It was very good to see them both, and reassuring in a way that going to Cambridge isn't always - they're in the same sort of situation as me, and also it somehow seems important to confirm that university people exist outside the university setting.

Cloverfield: I liked it; they could have afforded to be even more naturalistic with the script, but in general it felt like a standard-issue monster film with (most of) the annoying parts taken out. And in spite of any number of chocolate-coated brazil nuts, I didn't feel sick until I got out into the parking lot, at which point I weaved about dizzily.

In which there is no kind of atmosphere

The away game was not cancelled and I did end up in a field, watching us lose to an extremely polished international school. It was very windy, and I was reading on a metal bench, getting colder and colder (in spite of wearing the Ultra-Scarf and more or less all the other warm clothing I own). If I can't avoid being sent on outdoor sporting events until it gets slightly closer to spring, I'm going to have to either buy a little tent to sit in or, as a last resort, develop team spirit and jump up and down on the sidelines.

As for what I was reading, I've discovered a rich vein of Austenian pastiche in the library, and am loving it far too much. The one I've just finished is about Darcy and Elizabeth's five daughters, and is set in London, which I quite like (I think Northanger Abbey is one of my favourites because it's not all countryside, all the time). The plot is more or less the same as that of Pride and Prejudice, which means you have to accept that at least half of Darcy and Elizabeth's children are dumb as rocks. But once you do, it's lovely and a great comfort in near-hypothermic situations.

Going shopping in London tomorrow with Iona and possibly Ella, yay. And to see Cloverfield tonight, once I get off house duty. Will report back as to whether I throw up (I've never been to a film before that has an official motion-sickness warning).

När helvetet kom till byn

Danskar i affären: Yesterday I was on my way out of M&S in town, having gone upscale with my food shopping, when I heard two Scandinavians discussing whether some item of clothing made them look unnecessarily middle-aged (they were shopping in the wrong place if they wanted to avoid that). One woman spoke Swedish, the other spoke foreign-accented but recognisable trøndersk. I quite wanted to ask them how they'd ended up there. The idea that this town has a tourist industry unsettles me.

We had a lot of interview candidates in yesterday, and one of them came up to talk to me in the staff room, saying, "You look happy". Which in turn did make me happy. I suspect if it had happened today I would just have been annoyed, as I am tired, cabin-fevery and want nothing more than a bath. Also for tomorrow's away games to be cancelled so I don't have to take a minibus and sit in a field. And one of those warm salads from Pizza Express with the dough balls.

Norway in a week! The fact that I felt driven to reference En himla många program repeatedly in this post must mean I'm homesick.