Anyway, did you hear? I'm home. Yay! It took three godforsaken hours, however, due to me deciding to not get off at Peterborough to change trains and instead stay on until Cambridge, only I had no idea this added an extra hour on to my journey. And I had a disgusting hangover and was sitting backwards on the train. I had horrible images of me puking up into my WHSmith carrier bag and then having to throw it out the window, vomit splattered everywhere. Christ, it's enough to make one shudder at the mere thought!

Last night was extremely fun though, especially when I went into the DJ box and had both my requests played (Michael Jackson's Billie Jean and Beat It, if you were wondering) and then with the kind permission of the DJ I was allowed to control the smoke machine button and spent a few happy minutes filling the dance floor with billowing puffy white clouds and giggling drunkenly.

Yes. I was not sober at ALL last night. I was the antithesis of sobriety. There was absolutely no question of me going to my 11.30 lecture this morning let alone my 8.30. When I awoke my insides felt like they'd been pickled and my tongue replaced by a small strip of land cultivating tropical fungi. It wasn't pleasant, I can tell you that for nothing.

And so by this time tomorrow I will have officially missed a whopping 50% of my weekly lectures. It would appear that good intentions are not enough to get a person through a degree.

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