I'm bored, so I'm boring you.

Nothing new/exciting since the weekend, which is good, as that's about as much newness/excitment as I can handle, being old and tired and whatnot.

Classes are good; for my news writing class we divied the Lewisham Bourough (where I live) into beats. I, along with a native Londoner named Michelle, am covering crime. Which is probably not going to be overly difficult, being as there seems to be a lot of crime in this area, judging from the sirens I hear thru my window every night, but police here are not too anxious to offer up crime details without having met me. Which, I supposed is understandable, as I don't actually work for a newspaper, but sucks as my meetings are all next week, and I have an off-diary story due this Friday...

Spent the last two nights in the pub on the corner, the Marquis of Granby/Kelly's Bar. Don't know why it has two names, but the music is wicked (a wonderfully confusing mixture of American icons and old-school brit-pop, so it's not unusual to go from Johnny Cash to Oasis to the Eagles to Robbie Williams). It's a cozy place, but last call is 11 or 11:30 (such presicion from a journalist, I know) which both sucks and gets me to bed early enough.

Plans for the weekend: Go to Tottenham (or something to that general effect) Road to buy me some computery goodness Friday morning; go see Harry Knuckles Friday night; find me a job to pay for it all, the rest of the weekend.

But, the weekend after, my friend Ryan--who I've known since elementary, but haven't always liked so much as I do know, and I'm sure he'd say the same about me--is coming in for a few days. Yay!

-Nicole