For God's sake, it's October.

Raining like a sonofabitch down here, but as it's not windy, it happens to be quite pretty.
Recap then: for those that don't know, I'm back down in the educated climes of St Andrews, in the brand new and rather spiffy David Russell Apartments. Take a ganders here: http://www.st-andrews.ac.uk/~drafp/dra_apartments/pictures_of_dra.shtml (note, the flatmates are not my own).

Fresher's week came and went, without soo much incident. Matriculation was much less of a slog this year, and I got a suprise visit from Tom G, which was pleasent. I took him on as much of a pub crawl as I've ever been on, and found out that the Byre Theatre bar here mixed the best long vodkas and white russians in the known universe. Again, that it rather pleasing.

On the Sunday I ran the freshers fair stall for FilmSoc along with a new compatriot, and made over £400, which is a LOT considering: A. The amount of members that usually pay, and B. The sheer volume of societies we have in St Andrews. I was quite proud. The society is easting up a lot of my time, however, and I do have doubts now and again over wether or not I can afford to continue to devote so much time to it without it having a detrimental effect on my study.

Speaking of which, I'm in the "noticed" books of one of my botany lecturers for my enthusiam and nomenclature during a botanical garden feild trip. First time I've felt a personal toutch to my studies since I left the academy. Onwards and upwards.

Which is more than can be said for a great many of my friends at the moment. Quite a few seem to bet getting the shitty end of the stick at that moment, and it's just not fucking fair. It's really hard to converse about personal happiness when you know that those closest to you could well be falling apart. There's a terrible, sickening feeling when you know that if you were close by that you might be able to help a situation just a little, but 150 miles from home, there's just so little you can do for those you love.

Just seems to be symptomatic of back home. The day before I left a was verbally started on by some little druggie thug puke in the ship (and it may well have gotten physical had it not been for the landlord), who when ejeceted, proceeded to kick in the windows. The saddest part of it all is that such behavior is considered part and parcel of buisiness back home. The lack of outrage is what outrages me.

So here I am in DisneyLife, half the reality of actual life, half the pain.

I am a phenomenally lucky person.