It’s just ridiculous that we should have an earthquake in England at exactly the same moment I get laid for the first time in over two years. That proves someone has it in for me. Empirical evidence of a conspiracy. Worse is that it happened with M, after the Creative Writing class. I know I said I would stay away from her, what with that thing on her back. But it was the end of term and we all went out to a wine bar and she was hanging on to my every word telling me how clever I was that I knew stuff about wine and then some time after midnight it struck me, with mounting horror that she wanted me to take her home. Anyway that cheap glunk they sell at The Horn Of Plenty and the next thing… earthquake. We don’t do earthquakes in England, and I don’t do casual sex, but the two came together. (Earthquakes and sex, not M and I, in fact neither of us did so I have no idea what it was all about.) This has confirmed me in my need for celibacy. And then the budget. Christ. We now pay 46% tax on a bottle of wine. The French? 0.06%. What a way to run a country.