In the end, Sunday 28th ended up being brilliant. I managed to fend of the sleepiness, and while all around me, people were on the Internet, as I was without a log-in, I had no choice but to write for nine hours straight, and I penned about 10,000 words of novel. (I would have written more, but it's been a long time since I tried to write gay erotica in public, and I've lost my nerve.) I need more days like that! Int evening, I went to the pub with Jay, Helen, AJ, Gay James, UKC Alex and Alex's Abi, walked with Sleeve and Emma to hers, then went back to Sleeve's place.

Despite my tiredness, I only managed to get about five and a half hours of sleep on the cushions of Sleeve's not-quite-long-enough two-person sofa. Sleeve spent the morning introducing me to (good) music wot I had little knowledge of, and in the afternoon, we watched "Fight Club", as I'd never seen it before. Despite Bryn and myself watching a ridiculous quantity of films in my first year of university, he wouldn't let me watch it, on account of it being his ex's favourite film. And as I couldn't fathom what it was about (other than mischief, mayhem and soap, as one of the posters in the master's students computer room proclaimed) and wasn't very impressed by "Lullaby" by Chuck Unspellable Surname, I hadn't found any incentive to break my usual habit of never renting videos. (What do you mean, DVDs? Perish the thought! Analogue and cheapness all the way!)

But I agree with the rest of the world: twas brilliant and possessed what I think is the quality I admire most in art (and the quality that my own sadly lacks the most): enormity. Getting what felt like a six-hour film into two and a bit, but without rushing it at all. (As you can see, the scope of what I aim to write is enormous, but what an ordinary mortal could say in two hard-hitting sentences takes me three waffly paragraphs.)

Int evening, I went to Nodnol to see Deicide. They were good, although either the first support band (the bizarrely named Ted Maul, whose brand of festival metal I also appreciated) messed with my hearing more severely than I realised, or they weren't as heavy as I'd been expecting and the crowd reaction was a bit poor. (Though I appreciate I'm used to live performances being heavier than recordings, which is easy enough if you're a goth band, but not so if you play death metal.)

I met many cool people though (including a guy, who, on discovering I was a former Maths student, asked me for help with his Physics homework). Death metal gigs are brilliant in this regard. Though I've met some funchie folk at goth, punk and ordinary metal gigs (I've only met a handful of displaced metallers at an indie gig, but then I've only been to four), death metallers have the edge here. Before I go to a extreme gig in a new city, I always fear they'll be shy, pretentious or scary (I know I'm one too, but I freely admit I'm shy and scary), but no, quite the opposite.

Stayed avec Sleeve afterwards. On Tuesday, we went to Canterbury and hung out with and without Emma - with and withouuuuut Emmaaaaaa!!! - for a few hours. Int evening, I saw "The Incredibles" with Ian, AJ, Gay James, UKC Alex, Abi and Sophie (whose livejournal I started reading two years ago, but had never, until this point, met). Twas pretty good, though "Toy Story" and "Monsters Inc" were better in my opinion. Then I went to the pub with Ian and AJ for a bit; then we went to a punk / metal night avec punk bands, who were pretty good.

The door people asked if I was a member of the rock society and when I said I was the former president, they gave me discount entry. Yay! An ok night ensued, but I could have done with drinking more than a most of a single glass of vodka and orange (normally refreshing, despite its alcoholic uselessness), which I gave up on as it was full of bits which were just like those shards of skin that come off your lips when they're chapping.

Stayed avec Ian. On Wednesday, I went to campus, to meet former York-classmate Teresa, who's currently doing a Ph.D at Kent. (We were looking forward to sharing an office - especially since we go by Zed and Zar which would have made a good sign for the door.) Int evening, I went to Landan (as they call it there) where I met up with Other Sophie, her sister, Tom and Piggeh. We saw Bill Bailey, who was rather excellent.

(Historical note: that would be the first time I've been to a non-university-organised comedy gig. Another thing I can cross of the "to do before I die list". Now I just have to swim with dolphins, which, as Bill Bailey pointed out, seems a rather bizarre universal aim. Actually, on the train I met a woman from the Isle Of Sheppey (in Canterbury to meet someone on friendsreunited), of which most people agree that this website paints an accurate picture. She was fine, though, and said she liked it there. So I may just add it to the list of islands I still need to set foot on.)

Stayed with Ian. Spent most of Thursday writing the duller bits of one of my computer games, which I normally put off doing, and working on the zine for the imaginary band it's about. Insane, I know, but great fun and fantastic fodder for Ze Creative Revolutione! In the evening, I hung out with Sleeve, Emma and a guy who's name I've forgotten, then went to a rock night at the Venue (the university nightclub).

For no good reason, they try and make it nearly impossible for non-students to get in there, and ask us to turn up ages before the event begins. I did this, and they mistook me for a DJ and let me in for free. SCORE! Much as I normally like to offer my financial support the rock scene, it wouldn't have done any good on this occasion, the night really wasn't worth the £4 it cost everyone else, and the Stupid Union's messed me about so many times, that this could only be considered victory.

The night was cool in that I met some random people and everyone had great fun dancing. (Despite the badness and utter weirdness present in the music at times. Goth Chris played S Club 7, on account of them having a special place in his heart. Sadly, they do in mine too, as, during the mercifully brief period when I had to go to "normal" clubs, their brand of ridiculously catchy, upbeat, non-sleazy uberpop was preferable to everything else that was on offer.)

The night was pants in that I'd only known three people there for more than a week, and the number of people who'd actually turned up for the event? About fifteen, though there were a few guys in kerayzee hats attending the pimps and hookers party in the other part of the building, who seemingly favoured it. The powers that be then ended the night an hour early. Gah.

Stayed at Ian's. Spent a few hours the next day sitting in the computer room, catching up with my friends page by the power of Emma's password, before heading to Nodnol to meet Smill.

We rented "King Arthur" and "Freaky Friday". The first wasn't bad, but despite my love of Arthurian legend and reality, I couldn't focus. And Hadrian's Wall - the site of too many of school trip - looked really inauthentic. The second I know I should have hated because it couldn't have been fluffier, but I found really pleasing for some reason. Apart from the horrifying quantity of pop punk, of course! What kind of tearaway teenager digs The Vines anyway? Marilyn Manson, get it right!

We then stayed up far later than was remotely sensible chatting, and practising jiu jitsu moves, as Smill's just taken it up, and was having her first grading on Sunday. She passed.

On Saturday, I went to Bournemouth. I believe it was my first experience with South West Trains and it was a positive one: there was a goth girl with amazing hair in the station, and the seats were really wide. My passage through Southampton was disappointing though: I don't really believe in past lives, but I've long thought I'd been there in one), but it looked nothing like the place I'd envisioned.

In Bournemouth, I met up with longterm livejournal friend Annie S for the first time. I always feel a bit wary about meeting online friends, because you never know, they could always turn out to be dodgy old men I fear I'll be a disappointment to them: I'm generally a lot more confident, talkative and witty online than I am in person with people I haven't spent much time with. Nonetheless, we managed to chat effusively throughout the few hours we spent together and she seemed to enjoy The Zed Experience (judging by her livejournal entry, here (a much more entertaining read than this rather pedestrian account)), as I did The Annie S one.

I've been to Bournemouth before, but only really to the university; she introduced me to the high street, the beach (where we saw an absolutely amazing sunset) and the aviary. I also got to do the four things I always do in a new place, whenever possible:

1. Stand in the sea. (And this time, I didn't get my socks wet.)
2. Play on two-penny falls. (Didn't get any coins back though, bah.)
3. Check out the metal section in HMV. (Not bad.)
4. Attempt to buy black jelly bracelets in Claire's Accessories. I spent my entire time daan saath wearing my entire collection, which impressed everyone. I've got about a hundred (I should have a lot more, but people keep stealing them), but I'm trying to get enough to completely cover both forearms, and I've still got an arm and a bit to go. Sadly, on this occasion, I couldn't find any amongst all the pink fluff.

And we got to meet Graham Norton, as he was doing a book-signing in Borders! Yay! How bizarre, sighting two entertaining TV personalities - something I've never done before (not counting seeing the rather-less classy Krankies in a pantomime years ago) - in the space of three days!

Int evening, I met up with York Alex, and we went to see Screaming Banshee Aircrew. Given the distance I'd travelled (essentially 500 miles) to see them, they offered to refund twice my entrance fee. Sadly, it was free to get in.

The first band, Razorblade Kisses took the cute-but-twisted thing to an alarming level: I approved. SBA's wasn't, for once, the best performance I've seen them do, but they were still brilliant as always. The third band, Leisur Hive I wasn't wholly convinced about at first, though I put it down partly to the situation: I struggle to get the most out of "serious" bands when they appear immediately after rather sillier acts. But then one of their members got out an electric violin, and their performance turned into something immensely sinister and absolutely excellent! So a great gig all round, two thumbs up!

We only met one new person, with whom I had what was basically the following conversation:

Woman: Can I talk to you guys as I don't know anyone here?
Zed: Yes, perfect, as we're not from round here, so we don't know anyone either.
Woman: Where are you from?
Zed: Cumbria.
Woman: Oh really? My ex lived in Cumbria, in ********.
Zed: That's a weird name for a town That's where I live! And the population's only 3,500! What are the odds?

She gave us a lift back to the station, where the train to Alex's parental home in Dorchester had been replaced by a bus. I rethought my opinion of Southwest Trains, although at least I didn't have to pay for journey.

The next day was mostly spent getting back to Nodnol in order to see Samael. I didn't know much of their stuff beforehand, but I was impressed, the opening act (Hell-Born) another fine example of festival metal, and my love of death metallers again proved to be well-founded. On the tube afterwards I spoke to a guy who - of course, because there couldn't not be a connection - turned out to be at university in York. (And originally from Stockholm, where the metal scene is apparently brilliant. O Scandanavia, when will I visit your magnificent shores? (Well, August, but that's too long to wait! Too long!))

It was also good to see such a diverse range of people there. Now Samael's music is a bit bizarre: that they influenced Rammstein is obvious, but remember what I can only describe as "jungly pop", which was all the rage in 1994? ("Shine" by Aswad being a good example.) Well, they sometimes sound like that too. It works, but I struggle to decide whether it's genius or horrifying. Nonetheless, I thought they were only known to the extreme metal community, which is primarily young white guys in black clothing. But the crowd in all ways contradicted this stereotype. As I get more into extreme metal, I feel increasingly alienated by the dilution of the alternative scene in general - but such is my love of the genre itself that the wider the range of people into it, the happier I am.

I stayed chez Smill and on Monday, I met up with Soppygit. We spent a few hours in *upsidedownly crosses herself* Starbucks in Borders on Oxford Street, where we had a pleasant chat and were tortured by not-so-pleasant Christmas music, and I surreptitiously ate Smarties. If Starbucks refreshments were slightly more palatable and reasonably priced, I would be less averse to consumption of them. As it is, ha ha! (Although I know Smarties aren't much better, being made by Nestle and all, but I'd eaten about five hundred Mars Bars in the last week and needed a change.)

Oh well, I contributed a slight air of intellectuallism to the place, by tapping away at what was clearly the Great British Novel on my laptop, prior to Soppygit's arrival. Had anyone looked more closely, they would have seen that this portion of what was indeed the Great British Novel nonetheless essentially said, "He's sooooooo fit", but apart from some bloke exclaiming, "Hey, look at her fancy computer" (it's not) and some other bloke asking if he could borrow my mobile to call his friend (I agreed, for this sort of behaviour in today's society should be encouraged by way of example, although his friend's mobile phone company was probably based in Outer Mongolia), I was left alone.

(By the way, I'm writing this bit in Starbucks too, while eating another tube of Smarties and awaiting the arrival of also never-before-met online friend David. Victory! Well, not completely, on account of from the music: they've decided to intersperse the Christmas tunes with soul today. Such an improvement.)

Afterwards, we went into various shops, and I felt a bit ill-at-heart: I'm developing a bit of an aversion to Oxford Street. and shops and spending money in general. All these things screaming to be bought that I have no genuine desire or need for whatsoever, but that will doubtless win over the unthinking masses on account of their supposed essentialness. Sickening. Even my urges for more metal paraphernalia made me feel dirty.

I finally (probably) managed to get onto British TV though (having been on TV in Belgium and Japan, despite having spent less than two weeks in Belgium, and never having been to Japan), while we stood eating outside Marks and Spencers. (Benches on Oxford Street? Nah!) Some guy was filming with a biiiig camera, presumably for one of those items on the news that either says:

"Everyone's buying stuff on the Internet these days! See, you can see actual individuals on Oxford Street, rather than an amorphous mass of hands and carrier bags! Terrible! (Never mind that everyone's at work at this hour!)"

Or:

"And, on a happier note, our nation continues to conform, consume and die as effectively as ever."

I smiled at the camera and raised my devil horns.

In the evening, I saw the Mad Capsule Markets with Ian and UKC Helen. McQueen, the support band, were a sort of scuzzy all-female outfit: not quite my cup of tea, but they were good at what they did, and I approve simply on principle. The MCMs were brilliant though. I wasn't a huge fan beforehand (unlike a lot of the people present, who were wearing t-shirts from the gig in Liverpool the previous day), but I am now, and the atmosphere was amazing. I found myself having my spine twisted out of recognition quarter of an hour before they even appeared, and they had what certainly looked and felt like a five-hundred-person moshpit going. A good range of people were here too - punk, metal and ordinary hand gestures were made in equal measure.

I stayed with Smill once more, then met David, with whom I also managed to converse easily for a couple of hours. He has recounted the experience here in a far more enchanting fashion than I will ever manage, so I won't even try: go read his. (Warning: photo of my ghastly visage. What the hemp are you supposed to do with stickers bands and similar give you, anyway? I'm running out of space on my laptop and I've tried putting them on various bags, but all but one of them fell off within a few days, and that did too after seven months. (Though I looked like a superbackpacker while it lasted, as I got to be a British person in Australia with "Fireign - Canadian Metal" on my rucksack.) I used to stick them on my tower, but my new computer seems too good to be true, so I daren't risk causing offence by defacing it. By the way, I'm very ashamed of the prominence of the Dell logo in this picture, as Dell are even more evil than Starbucks and Nestle put together. I have since covered it with a sticker Terrorizer sent me.)

The train home had no power points on it, meaning my laptop's battery ran out half way through the journey. Much as I didn't want to have to spend money on a book beforehand, I fortunately had the foresight to do so (having completed this trip's reading matter of Terrorizer and Kettle Hammer (as opposed to "Meringue", as I've started calling those two fine publications) the previous day). I got "Notes On A Scandal" by Zoe Heller, the first half of which was genius but the second half let it down a bit, I thought.

Good things about this trip (in addition to those already alluded to):

1. Barely getting to go online. The Interweb normally eats a horrific amount of my time, so it was wonderful to be completely free of its clutches, and in the moments I was able to use it, it felt like a treat. I'm inspired to really try and cut down on my future usage.

2. When I first had second thoughts about doing a Ph.D, I pursued the possibility of moving in with Smill. I'm very glad I abandoned it. Not because there's anything wrong with her (in spite of everything I wrote about her while we were at school, although the arrangement still would have been difficult for various reasons), but because she lives in London. I hate moving crowds (relatively stationary ones - such as those at gigs - are fine) and I hate spending money, so I found eleven days in and out of London torturous enough. It won't stop me from visiting frequently, but I don't ever want to live there now.

3. I was also right not to do a Ph.D in Canterbury. Oh, the Statistics department there is excellent and I'm sure I could make new friends, but the university is evil. This isn't just me attributing personalities to inanimate objects again: I've known this since first year, Bryn and Sleeve are in complete agreement, and I know others to agree at least to some extent. It just wouldn't do anyone any good for me to explain why here. Its evil, I'm sure, isn't wholly deliberate, if at all, but nonetheless, it's insurmountable. Efforts to combat it have been made, but they've led to nothing. I was prepared to overlook this, on account of the attachments I have to people there, but now the majority of those people have vanished, so - while it's far from the worst place in the world, and I could happily go there for another few years if need be, I no longer actively want to return.

Otherwise, as always, I oscillate wildly between loving and hating everything. Part of the time I desperately want to become a student again. My brain is screaming to be put back in gear, and whenever anyone complains about having an essay to write, I wish I had one, and it's so frustrating that I'll probably have to wait until a September before I can return to academia. In the meantime, I really need to see if there's anything better / more I can do with my skills for the next nine months. Also, I long for the constancy of companionship university provides, and the ease of meeting new people there. In the last week alone, I've met dozens.

The rest of the time I go, "Nooooo! I can't be bound to one town in this limited congratulating-itself-on-its-mediocrity country I've already spent the vast majority of my life in for another three years! The horror of routine and seeing the same faces day-in day-out, and so complaining about everything, but not actually making any effort to change things, because nothing we can change is really wrong, and anyway, then what would we talk about? And when would I find time to write?"

Sometimes, I want to spend the rest of my days on trekking across the world, going to as many metal gigs and sleeping on as many sofas as possible. Sometimes, I want to stay at home and play The Sims 2 for the rest of eternity. The only things that remains constant (other than the uncertainty) are my urge to spend as little time as possible in my current job and jobs like it, and my love of writing. Time to go and do some, then.