Doughnut Brunch

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day because you get to have cereal. Lunch is the second most important meal because it is closest to breakfast and if you are at home you can have cereal again. At the minute, however, I'm out of milk, out of cereal and out of the house. This means that I didn't get any breakfast, and so I have had to conjoin both the most important meals of the day into one super important meal, which is a doughnut brunch. A doughnut brunch is when you have doughnuts for brunch so you don't get hungry. John also gave me some animal biscuits, and I shared some of my doughnuts with him. That way we are both getting a balanced diet.

I've got ten hats. The latest arrival to the hat family is a sick up Navy Peruvian beanie from our friends at Jaxon hats. It arrived shortly before C.U house party, which is good because Isaac Stovell said that he would try to bring more hats than me, and the addition of the aforementioned beanie to the ranks of my more portable and packable hats was the only thing that enabled me to beat his respectable count of five. More about house party later.

Another bonus of beanie ownership is that it is a winter hat which protects me from the cold, which is just as well because it has been snowing. Yes for real, snowing. I've probably said some stupid things about the North of England before in a tactless attempt to be funny, and I would like to publicly renounce all those things now. The North can be my friend. It snows here and it is where I live. Admittedly the snow lasted all of an hour or so, but in that time it managed to settle on what had been wet ground, so I have high hopes for things to come.

Hey who wants to hear a funny story? Everyone? Good.

The other morning as I staggered, half dressed and half awake, from my bedroom to the shower, I thought I saw an old lady in the kitchen talking to my flat mate. Needless to say, I scurried away rather hastily and hid myself in the bathroom. Whilst showering, I reflected on this unusual ordeal and said to myself, "There can't be an old lady in my kitchen, it's half past seven in the morning. I've only been awake for five minutes and I probably just imagined it."

Such was my confidence in this theory that upon exiting the shower I thought nothing of strolling across the hallway in nothing but a towel. This was, after all, a flat populated entirely by men, in which old ladies would have no business at such an hour. Passing the kitchen on the way back, I glanced again through the internal window. My senses had not deceived me, she was definitely there.

I decided that it would be a good time to put some clothes on. I got dressed and wandered cautiously towards the kitchen to investigate. Upon opening the door, my trust in my senses dissipated once again. There were now, it seemed, at least six ladies between the ages of 45 and 60 crammed into the kitchen, smiling politely and wishing me a good morning. My flatmate stood somewhere in the middle of them, looking sheepish and disorientated.

After a few moments of stunned yet friendly silence, one of the women revealed that she and her companions were cleaning ladies, and that if it was all right they would like to use our kitchen for breaks. "It'll only be three days a fortnight." said one. Her manner was so dear and her face so kindly that I agreed wholeheartedly without really realising that three days a fortnight is actually quite a lot of days.

"Just do whatever it is you normally do love, don't let us get in the way." said one of the cleaners. I'm not really sure what she thought I normally used the kitchen for, but it's not really physically possible to do most of them with more than seven people between you and the sink.

Well, that was a pretty long winded account of a mostly trivial affair. Then again, what were you expecting? In the spirit of distributing words inversely to the importance of their subject, here's a short hand summary of a weightier event:
C.U house party was a sick jam. Praying, singing, fellowshiping, bonfiring, japery and the like. The gospel is exciting business, and it's not getting any less good. I met a high class fiend by the name of Lindsay Brown. Just for the record, he's not really a fiend I use that term expressively to denote admiration and respect. I didn't know at the time, but it turns out he's an old friend of my parents. He's back at events week (WOOP), so I'll say hi to him then.

Aight good. Text-a-toastie is being hosted in my flat tonight, which is exciting because there will be a lot of people in my kitchen. Like more than when those cleaning ladies were there. Many more. If there's a fire, we'll all just fall over each other and die. Pray that nobody dies and that a lot of people have fun, hear the gospel and have misconceptions dealt with. Good job, have fun!

Maximum Activities

I get to do so many activities and have lots of fun 24/7. It's the flippin' prime time of my life. Sure the work load is picking up a little, but that basically just means that I get to learn interesting things. Did you know that there's this alternate dimension where differential equations are like ten times easier to manipulate? It's called Laplaceland. You can drag difficult equations, kicking and screaming, to this alternate plane where you can rearrange them any how you like, and then magic their limp bodies back into the real world of actual maths, at which point they agree to stop being so difficult. It means that systems engineers can tell you about car seats if you tell them about all the stuff underneath the car seats like suspension and tyres.

Let me tell you about activities that I get to do. Yesterday was Monday, which means C.U, which means maximum fun with my Christ loving home boys/girls. Some guy was trying to tell me that Jesus is like a snake on a pole. Also that I had died and was hidden in him. Crazy. Directly after the meeting was CITY WIDE TEXT-A-TOASTIE, a truly all-caps worthy event. In case you don't know, text-a-toastie is where anyone can text in with a question about Christianity and stuff and get a free toastie with their answer. It is really fun and very exciting, you meet all kinds of people and clear up all kinds of misconceptions. Word is that people have been going to church with flat mates and reading through gospels following these events. That is my jam. Have you read any gospels? You should, you dingus.

Friday is a good day, because there's usually gospel choir, followed by a roughly 50% of ceilidh. Probably one of the things I love the most about living here is that there is a ceilidh about five minutes from my house around once a fortnight. I love it. Gospel choir facilitates similar levels of fun. We getting ready for Christmas with bad boys such as this, and next week I'm taking the warm up, during which everybody is going to learn how to sing Daft Punk's 'Lose Yourself to Dance'. Gospel choir is fun because nothing gives me kick like singing songs that have different parts in them. It sounds very nice. Apparently Bach thought that harmonies and melodies and stuff are beautiful because they reflect the perfectly united and multifaceted beauty of God in his triune form. I have been reading a very interesting short book called 'The Good God' by Michael Reeves. It is all about how the trinity is not like an egg or a three leafed clover, but is a lot like a God who does not need anything because he overflows, and has created and loves human beings because his very nature is to radiate goodness, creativity and love. Basically the doctrine which we so often avoid because it is confusing gives us a fundamentally better understanding of God. I don't want to keep going on about it, but I totally want to keep going on about it. Good book, better God.

I want to start a hat society, but you can't be a society by yourself. I've met a few people with a growing interest in head wear, and I feel like in due time perhaps the dream could become a reality, but it's probably best not to rush. My friend Joe is interested in starting a Kazoo Orchestra, which of course I am also interested in. Both of these prospective societies excite me, and hopefully they excite other people also, because then they will become a reality. I would like them to both happen on the same day. If there was one day of the week where I sang and danced and another day where I wore hats and played the kazoo, my life would be even better than it is now. I guess the best thing about these activities is that I can do all of them every day, which will probably be the case once I found a shop in Sheffield that sells kazoos. Still, organised kazoo playing and hat wearing is good.

Hey, know what else I'm doing this week? I'm going home to London! If you are cool and live in London, we may soon be reunited. If you are Ruth Lovell, then I especially look forward to seeing you.

Hat summary:
I lost my flat cap whilst having fun in museums with my boy Tim Rothon, but I can buy another one from any old charity shop. Also, Claire Lovell has been busy accumulating lost hats for me in London, and it pleases me to announce that upon my return to Sheffield next week, I will be donning / carrying my Fez and Tim Platt Cowboy hat. This will bring my hat collection up to nine hats, assuming I replace the flat cap any time soon. Tantalisingly close to double digits. I'll have to make a cake when that happens.

Wizards only, keep it tight.