19

I had thought I was gonna write a whole bunch today – and even had it sort of planned out in my head – but what with squash and napping and playing the crossbar challenge and Pong and having a laugh with my housemate Diego, and the funfair, I haven’t really found the time. It was going to go something like this: three headings, the first saying, “Three Weeks Ago” and talking all about when I got scammed for fifty quid on eBay and how I played private detective and cracked the case and got the cops involved and two hundred other people in on it and now the scammer has gone on the run and fled his home and maybe the country and how we’re bringing a court case against eBay and I got my money back anyway; the second, “Two Weeks Ago,” all about going to Oxford on Perlilly’s invitation, and spilling my heart out some more, and how we kissed and got back together and became boyfriend and girlfriend, and how happy that made me and how everything was great; and the third, entitled – wait for it – “One Week Ago,” and no idea what that was about, ‘cos I can’t remember anything particularly exciting I did one week ago – except maybe the Oxford thing would cross over into there – and then I suppose I’d get on to this week and talk about how P. ended our relationship and how heartbroken and devastated and saddened I was by that, and my thoughts around it; something or other. But, like I’ve said, I haven’t had the time – and, I guess, the inclination – and I suppose this will suffice.

To end on a brighter note, however – because, I’ve realised, what I’ve written there doesn’t really reflect the mild state of happiness I’m feeling as I’m typing this – let me talk a little bit about my housemate and new found bestest chum, Diego, who is just a topmost and altogether lovely bloke from Spain. He showed me how to clean my bike yesterday. We play football together, and have little races. We went hiking on the moors. And we play Pong – oh yes, we play a lot of Pong. It started a month or so back, a conversation with my other housemates on old skool computer games, and various things were downloaded – Dizzy, Manic Miner, among others – but really it was Pong that grabbed us. It’s two player, that’s the thing. Me and Diego got stuck in; I ruled. He made me a crown – “King of Pong” – and we shouted and swore and danced in the kitchen amongst our various defeats and victories. Every time I win Diego has to put the crown on my head – the crown is a large brown envelope really – and I say to him, “who’s the king?” to which he dutifully must answer, “you’re the king” (although the frequent inclusion of the word “motherfucker” is his own addition). Also, if someone loses 11-0, they have to lick something; first time, it’s the garden; second time, the street; third time, the park opposite our house, where dogs take their shits. Diego’s lost 11-0 twice; you can see a video of him licking the street <a href=http://youtube.com/watch?v=-d5fBvhEViY>here</a>. He has also taken my crown on a couple of occasions, though not for long. I reckon I’ve won maybe eighty times – but it’s always a good tussle, and he’s getting closer all the time. We love it. Also, we fart and crack jokes and we love that too.

It’s good to have a chum.